Chapter 9 Agreements on Unstable Grounds

Turns out Swindle isn't the only one that knows how to bargain.

Disclaimer: I don't own Onslaught, Blastoff, Brawl, Swindle, Vortex, or the transformers or IT. Everyone else is inspired by people I've had to deal with.

This took a little longer to publish as I was playing with fonts. Fun fact, on the transformers wiki you can download autobot and decepticon scripts and use them in word document or rich text but if you try to publish it on here it just translates back to the phonetic alphabet. I had been battling the system to see what I could get away with. Which turned out I can get away with nothing and I had to go alter or remove some hidden, comedic parts. Sorry folks.

Also warning: this chapter contains blood, gore, violence, things that make Vortex happy, and a Vortex that made my husband feel uncomfortable at times.

Finally, he was where he wanted to be. Finally a shred of sophistication in this trashy town. Finally the odds were turning in his favor.

Or he would feel that way if the library had any relation to Kaon's or Iacon's athenaeum. The first floor of the rundown house had more square footage than the meager media center sporting a carpet displaying a collage of colors from indeterminable stains.

That said, the other flat surface areas had been dusted to the point that they would pass a white glove test. Not too bad, it had potential, why with a little renovation from his ionic blaster and the place would be in perfect condition for demolition.

No sign of the twig women, if luck swung back into his favor she didn't work today or he could speak to her boss; but first he'd have to find someone. Not even a cricket stirred along the rows of bookshelves.

Well, Onslaught might fuss that he wasn't being constructive in getting a job but the whole idea of getting one was pointless and just a distraction. He could use this time to research about caring for their bodies. Maybe he could convince the fool that he would be a better asset to the team researching than looking for a stupid job. He snickered to himself, 'Onslaught threatening to ditch me yesterday. Ha! They need me, they're illiterate in this world; aside from Swindle but who could rely on that untrustworthy crook.'

'Now, where to start? Electronic technology is a good sign and starting point.' He took a seat in front of one of the computers and pressed the start button. The loading bar appeared as the screen blared to life. Then in big friendly letters, the text 'Windows Vista' scrolled across the CRT monitor. 'Scrap, this machine is already a lost cause, it should be purged.'

He drummed his fingers. 'Encyclopedias, encyclopedias are a good starting point and wow, whoever works here has a brain stem capable of alphabetizing. Now, what to look under. Health Care? No, too broad a subject to be covered in one of these. Bodily function? No, hmmmmm, anatomy, yes I can learn parts of the body and then search and study specific areas and functions.'

He grabbed the first book and instinctively stared at the cover. Nothing happened. 'Dunce, it's not a datapad,' he chided himself sheepishly as he slowly turned the hard cover over.

'Let's see, an… an ...ant ...ananto… eureka, here. Animal anatomy, no. Ah ha! Human anatomy, the physical substance of the human organism, composed of living cells and extracellular materials and organized into tissues, organs, and systems. Human anatomy and physiology are treated in many different articles. For detailed discussions of specific tissues, organs, and systems, see human blood; cardiovascular system; digestive system, human; endocrine system, human; renal system; skin; human muscle system; nervous system; reproductive system, human; respiration, human; sensory reception, human; skeletal system, human. Wait a klink, someone blacked out the word after 'nervous system', who has the time to vandalize books? Whatever there should be a diagram here.'

He turned the page toward said diagram but did two double takes. There were two illustrations, one male and one female, but again, someone had scribbled a box covering both of the areas between the legs and the female's torso. He flipped back to the first marked out word and held the page up to the light, it shined through the sharpie revealing the hidden text. 'Reproductive, why bother to hide this?'

Curiosity nipped at the back of his mind and he grabbed the 'R' book and shuffled the pages for the word, only to come across several pages completely painted in black paint or white out. 'This isn't someone's idea of a prank, this is deliberate. But why, what would someone gain from withholding basic information?'

"P..pardon sir, could I help you?" squeaked right behind him.

Blastoff nearly lived up to his name in human form as he yelped and rocketed to the ceiling, barely clipping his head on one of the tiles. When his feet met the ground he looked like a bewildered golem clutching his most precious trinket.

The midthirty milquetoast woman was equally hunched in a ball but backwards in a recoil, "Sssss Sir?"

Blastoff straightened his back, glasses, and tie. He cleared his throat, about to speak before noticing a stray lock of his bangs disobediently poking over his eye. He slid it back into place and snubbed down at her. "It seems someone has vandalized certain sections of your encyclopedias."

She perked up a little and adjusted her wide rim glasses to peer at the pages he presented. "Oh yyyyyy….yes," she stuttered softly. The glare of the overhead light left her lens and for the first time he could see how doe-eyed she was. Her lids had a downturn, making her look perpetually tired or worried.'

'Yes, Pastor Keith decreed this after several parents expressed concern about their children having access to anything pornographic in the media. Most parents were worried about the internet but many of the elder deacons and the pastor took it a step further and thought censoring be applicable to books and magazines. They went through the whole stock we have here. He even age restricted and blacklisted certain books."

Her gaze down cast to the floor away from him, "We lost a lot of important classic literature that day, and I had saved enough money for the library to afford the latest Britannia set only to watch it ruined.'

'Not that I'm disparaging Pastor Keith's choice," she suddenly flustered and nervously scanned around the room as if the walls had ears. "He's… he's just trying to protect the next generation." She grumbled, "By withholding scientific knowledge and cultural perspectives.'

The dispel surrounding her dissipated like a fog and she gingerly extended her trembling hand, 'I'm I'm Sophia."

"Yes, I know. My landlady introduced you in the parking lot and you handed me a sack." He begrudgingly shook her hand, if it could be considered one. More like shaking a slack cable.

"Oh, can I help to find something? Mr…."

"James."

"Er ah can I help you James?"

Blastoff huffed without looking at her, "I am currently looking for temporary work while we are in town and came here to speak with your manager."

"Oh, well I'm afraid there isn't much to do around here as you can see. It might get a little busier with students and finals week and there are the book club meetings. The pay isn't much but if you don't mind being paid under the table you could forgo the application process."

"That is fine with me, but I believe that is a discussion I should have with the manager."

Sophia's ghostly complexion flashed a soft pink across her cheeks, "Sorry I should have said earlier, I'm the manager."

Blastoff's face held no reaction, not even a twitch; however, burrowed deep inside the complexities of his inner mind his emotions were screaming in full nuclear turmoil as if the walls were waterfalls of lava. Nope, the universe still had it out for him.

"Arrgg Scrap this ludicrous slag!" Onslaught flung his rawhide glove to the ground while squeezing the circulation out of his injured hand and stomping in a circle, while screaming confession in his native tongue to ease the pain.

Brawl pulled the strand of barbed wire taunt, "Shut up! I didn't need to know about your private shower singing sessions. It's just a scratch. We have four more of these to do and I am not doing them alone!"

"Give me a nano klink, this is more of a stab than a scratch."

"Quit being a wimp, I'll pull the wire and you pin it to the post."

"Excuse me, but what makes you believe you can give me an order or that you have the mental capability to demonstrate leadership in this task."

Brawl scowled at his leader, "Well, I was smart enough to not injure my servo and I only said you should pin the wire so you could not stab yourself again. And I know how to build a fence, as I said before sheepicrons have a habit of wandering off in a group and getting lost. You need a fence to make a pen to put them in if you aren't watching them. Now let me ask you. Do you have any experience in handiwork?"

"Yes, a soldier has to know how to make repairs out in the field; but you, building something! Ha, when submarines fly! You destroyed part of the base with that one core processor of yours! You're the demolition expert of the group! "

Brawl released the barbed wire, it whipped at the sudden absence of tension and whizzed by Onslaught's crane like legs. He chucked his ball cap on the ground and plopped in the grass before taking a swig of his canteen and struggling to open a bag of potato chips.

Onslaught balked before a sigh escaped him and took a seat next to his subordinate, "Do we have a medkit?"

"Nope, and don't ask me how to care for that because I'm the one that drags us down and makes Bruticus dumb."

"Combiners are just naturally denser in the core than the sum of their parts due to the differences of multiple processors having to control one body. The more conflicting the personalities the slower the combiner's mental capability."

The former tank didn't answer and continued to eat the chips like cookie monster.

The decepticon officer had always seen his left leg counterpart throw violent tantrums; pouting was new, and maybe only happening because he was afraid the Autobots would show up if he had a major outburst or his fuel tank was full and he was eating his feelings through the bag. Onslaught sigh again and went slack, "You're not the root cause of Bruticus's stupidity; however, you are probably a key driving factor in his rage and strength."

"I don't know, could be you. Do you have any recollection of what you're like after losing chess to that user… what's his name… Black&WhiteProtocal6. Or does it all go neon red?"

The former anti-aircraft truck felt the crack of a smirk forming and a rumbling chuckle as he began rinsing his bloody hand with his canteen. The soft tissue between his thumb and index had a puncture in it. He winched trying to flex it. A quick search in his pockets revealed a handkerchief that became a makeshift bandage that he wound.

Something rustled to his left and he came face to face with the open end of the chip bag. Brawl was pointedly facing away as he rattled it again. Onslaught stifled a bemoaning grimace before accepting the peace offering. Organic food, why'd it have to be organic food.

They both munched in silence till Brawl, like most things, broke it, "Starscream is dumber than me when he grabbed us. From what you said earlier, if someone wanted a combiner they would have carefully selected the team members. None of us think alike, our altmodes couldn't be more different, and we don't have a unifying goal or interest."

Onslaught felt himself smiling but forced himself not to and wished for his battle mask. Yeah it was the end of the world. Brawl was making intelligible sense and worse he found himself agreeing with him. "I can think of one thing that could unify us. Our hatred for these circumstances."

Brawl held the bag over his head and funneled the last of the crumbs in his mouth before chucking it with a shrug, "I miss my body but here feels like my old life before the war and I can't remember a time when my fuel tank was full." He snorted and nudged Onslaught's knee, "The recruiter in Yuss told me 'Join the army, meals are like clock work with no bills'. Biggest bunch of Junkion trash I've been handed. Yeah, we got fuel, low grade and rationed; if you weren't out in the field!"

Onslaught dusted off his offended kneecap before unscrewing the lid to his canteen, "You've told me how you got into the army, how in the slag did you join the gestalt program?"

"Command wanted a bruiser combiner and was going to have me be a commander."

Onslaught choked on his water, was it possible to use those words in the same sentence? Vortex had the ability to creep him out, not that he'd ever show it, but the slag that came out of Brawl's vocalizer terrified him.

"Before fighting in this war I fought in a battalion on some other organic planet. I ended up becoming a de facto leader of half of them due to seniority after our second in command defected and our commander got fried with the other half. Shame, not a bad guy, fresh out of the academy, lacked experience, didn't understand guerilla warfare or that squishies fought differently than robotic races. But since they were looking up to me and I managed to secure our area, well command thought I had potential."

'No just desperate,' mulled Onslaught as he removed his hat and rubbed the sweat beading his brow, 'I sat in that meeting with my mentor. I can't believe it was you they were talking about, it's a small universe after all."

"I told them they were crazy, I hate being the one everyone comes to for answers. So I got voluntold to be a leg."

The gestalt commander gawked at his bottle and wished it was full of high grade. Strong enough that the fumes could inebriate him. Anything to help him ride out the solar wind of this storm of incoming news.

Brawl nudged him again, squinting at two black forms approaching from the barn in the distance. "Come on, let's finish the fence before the old flesh bag gets here and thinks we're loafing on the clock." He perched the ball cap back on his head so the bill blocked the sun's rays.

Disturbingly, Brawl's timing was on point that they finished securing the last barb wire as Gilbert reached them with a haltered steer in tow.

"Looks sturdy fellas," a withered hand scratched a weather beaten chin, "Should hold, as long as whatever broke it in the first place never comes back."

Brawl crossed his arms and leaned against a post, "What caused this in the first place?"

Gilbert shrugged, "Not ah clue, the perpetrator didn't use bolt cutters, standard choice among rustlers. Even stranger, noth'ns miss'n. None of the cattle are miss'n, no tools are gone, and I can't find any footprints."

"What about those?" Onslaught indicated the impressions in the clay soil.

Gilbert adjusted his bifocals, "That's ah praire wolf track, it wouldn't even been able tah break the wires, it just crawl under. If you see those, keep an eye on the calves and chickens, the varmint likes to slaughter them."

He gave Jasper a pat on the shoulder. "Well you boys done good work, I trust ya with the horses, you're free to ride them all over the property and for certain errands." His hat further darkened the shadow of his face, "But don't you ever let me catch you ride'n 'em after dusk or tie and leave em fully tacked in the sun with no water. I clear?"

"Yup," Brawl gave Biscuit a scratch behind the ears. The behemoth leaned into it and the heavy weapons expert found himself being scooted precariously toward the barbed fence.

Onslaught felt a boney palm slap the lead end of the halter in his hand; the connected steer oafishly waddled to him. Its tongue digging deep in the two moist caves above its mouth. Vortex had brought up a good point, why did humans keep these things?!

Gilbert grinned with the sun bouncing off his glasses, "Speaking of errands, we're not used to have'n fellas with voracious appetites as yourselves and need to restock the kitchen. I need you two to take him to the Donner brothers shop on the north end of town. If you head down south on the road and turn on the first street on the right, keep going, you'll reach it. Dark red mason building, can't miss it." He produced an envelope from his breast pocket, "You'll want ta give this to one of the brothers."

Something died as he held the frayed rope in his left and the package in his right. His dignity? Nope. His pride? Maybe. His career aspiration? That had been in the gutter already for quite awhile. But it tugged inside of him.

"AHHHH EEEEEE YOOOOOWWW!"

Brawl smashed against Biscuit's side in a screaming frenzy. The equine backed up all spooked but quickly settled to watching the redhead undecidedly nurse his punctured hindquarters in a wild, seizured chicken dance of pain. Whilst failing to scream his native curses.

"He's Irish isn't he?"

Onslaught stuttered, "Uh yes."

It should be said in this town that due to the ever loving and watchful eye of the pastor and his deacons that any institution attracting thugged riff-raff or in the possession of alcohol, let alone selling it, instantly became pariahs. The grill and bar skirting the edge of town was begrudgingly passed over by the wave of chaste gentrification on account that it attracted a more stable flow of cash to the deteriorating town. The owner was considered as one of the good ole boys in the community, and he promised to run his establishment in a way that any negative characteristics of certain patrons did not impede on the town's virtuous image.

He ran his business so well that in fact brawls or physical scuffles seldomly occurred as differences were usually settled through ritualistic combat of arm wrestling. However, witnesses reported a lot of people punching themselves in the face.

Disputes about tapping in the aquifers between farmers and ranchers against roughnecks from the oil derricks would result in either side inflicting self imposed blows to their faces. Changing any song from Garth Brooks on the jukebox would cause the perpetrator to assault himself. And there was a very infamous incident where a patron complained that the BBQ sauce was too mild and then graciously flung himself out the window.

A hush settled across the dining hall when a blast of the sun's rays beamed into the room from a stranger opening the door. Soles belonging to a pair of oxford wingtip dress shoes crunched the peanut shells littering the floor. A loud yellow jacket trailed its owner, weaving through the maze of tables to the bar counter. The creak of chairs echoed as customers twisted in their seats to watch the bartender peer from the glass he was drying to the stranger raising a finger to place an order.

"Volveria por esa puerta si fuera tu."

The finger faltered, "Eh beg your pardon I'm not familiar with that language."

The jukebox scratched its record and a black billiard ball launched across the room into the kitchen. Outraged shouts bellowed among the shattering crashes of dishes.

Furniture creaked further as eavesdroppers leaned in more.

"Ah," a nervous chuckle followed, "Is water served here?"

The atmosphere toned down from abrasive to mild curiosity as the owner filled a glass and slid it across the polished wood to an eager hand.

"Ah thank you good sir," he polished off the glass, "Quite refreshing, I'm not used to the heat where I'm from."

"Which would be?"

"Oh hard to say, military career can have you all over the place."

"You. You're one of the five newcomers in town." More stated in disbelief than a question.

"Why yes, name's Carlos Haymer."

The attention pinned on Swindle dissipated but not the underlying tension. The combaticon could hear a disgruntled table mutter, "God damn aliens getting into everything, they just let anyone in the army these days I guess, this is what's ruin'n merica."

The hairs on the former Jeep's arms and neck prickled, 'How do they know I'm extraterrestrial?'

"You watch your god-damn language you shriveled bastard!" Barked the barkeep as he refilled Swindle's glass. "Ignore them, as long as you're an honest customer not bringing trouble to my business I could care less."

Swindle tipped his drink to him, "My sentiments exactly. As a businessman myself I follow the same philosophy."

"Hmf, never heard a soldier call himself that before."

"I'm more a munitions collateral manager for my group. Speaking of which, we are trying to earn some cash while we are stranded here and I'm extending my accounting abilities to anyone interested."

"You're a few weeks late pal, tax season is over. Annnnd I don't know of anyone interested in hiring an accountant outside of a firm, they'll think it's untrustworthy. Most just go to Cave Johnson at the bank for help. If you want work, the grocery store needs help moving shipments or the owner of the lawn care services is known for his short term workers."

The combaticon grit his molars but kept his salesman smile, "They'd be disappointed in my labor skills. I'm more of a pencil pusher type."

"Gonna be hard for ya, you're the first of your kind." He gave an amused chuckle and left Swindle to mull in his worries to address the rude trucker from earlier and later file a report that the man broke a beer bottle upside his own head.

Tap,

tap,

tap.

His fingers drummed on the counter. The tractor sales job had gone down in flames faster than Bruticus firing at an oil refinery He had to repeat four times to the floor manager that he was there to try out as a salesman before a shred of seriousness was given. He even tried a demo on him to show he meant business only to be told his presentation was too aggressive, he didn't have the warmth of a business posing as part of the family, and gave off a city slicker and carpetbagger feel.

What the scrap did all that have to do with running a business?! In order to be successful as an entrepreneur there were three giants that must be slain: family, friendship, and religion.

He was starting to understand Blastoff's frustration earlier about stooping to jobs he was way too over qualified for. Maybe catering a bit to this shared common ground would get the shuttle to sway to his side and see his concerns.

A pair of fingers waggled in his line of sight. "Hola hombre, I'm Wally and this is my business associate Jecey, and we overheard you were looking for work and had experience in accounting. We have a small business outside of town…"

"Lovely scenery, open fields for miles on end and a cozy RV office…"

Wally elbowed his partner in the ribs, "It's a small start up and we have more skill in producing the products but need help with managing finances."

Swindle waved a dismissive hand with a charming smile, "I spent a day lost in the featureless landscape just trying to find a speck of civilization, no amount of money is going to entice me out there." And he turned back to the solitude of his ice cold drink.

He didn't need to rely on his new, more sensitive nasal chemical analyzer to detect drug culture; it rang synonymous across races. He loved negotiating, he could negotiate with anyone, just not depraved addicts; he left that niche to Octane.

THUMP

A new neighbor announced himself in the adjacent stool and slumped over the counter with a full beer. The man's eyebrows were so thick that they could act as a sun visor for his eyes and even heightened his stoic features. Swindle tipped his drink to him, "Job problems?"

The man nodded and took a swig, "I'm a toolpusher, I'm in charge of one of the derricks out here and my subordinates are morons. They're egos are as delicate as tissue paper and then they come here to blow off any money and steam they accumulated to get drunk and argue with the locals. You can see where this is going."

"Sounds like everyone in my squad."

The foreman took another sip, "Because of this I had to fire two, some got out of jail today, and one is out on medical to fix his shattered jaw."

"How'd it shatter?"

The man was about to answer full of bitterness but caught the side eye stare of the bartender and mumbled at his bottle, "Slipped in the bathroom and landed on the sink. Annnddd now I'm understaffed and having to manage double the paperwork. Headquarters is probably going to try to corral me into an early retirement if I can't get this hitch back on track."

Swindle took a large sip and excitedly smacked his glass down, "Well today might both be our lucky day. I'm a collateral manager for my squad, I manage our budget and inventory of munitions, rations, and equipment and we are trying to earn some extra cash while we are stuck in town. I'd be willing to offer my services for lower than standard pay since I know the hiring process takes awhile and I don't have a resume on hand. But I do have five references and I could get my commanding officer on the phone." He bit his tongue hoping the man wouldn't really ask for his referrals.

The bushy eyebrows were arched making them look like a crow in flight, "Really now, I'd hire you in a heartbeat but my superiors at headquarters would kick up a fuss about bureaucratic ethics and hoop jumping with fine red tape."

The former Jeep was using every inch of will power to keep his smile and not scream like the room was on fire.

"However, if I paid you under the table and if you filed the money I paid you in the books in an inconspicuous way, I could pull it off."

"I'll go a step further and get your paperwork back on track and make it look like your understaffed derrick suffered a minor bump in the road. Thus, you can choose when you want to retire."

The eyebrows rose high enough to reveal twinkling bloodshot eyes with dark bags underneath, accompanied by a toothy smirk. An open hand offered forward, "I'd say we have a deal son. What's your name?"

Swindle eagerly shook his hand, "Carlos, Carlos Haymer sir."

The foreman gulped more of his drink, "Alright Carlos, I'm gonna finish my beer here and then we can head over to my office and I'll get you acquainted with the books." He went back to facing straight ahead to enjoy the remainder of his beer and to give a much needed sigh.

Swindle found himself having trouble swallowing the last few sips of his glass from sheer anticipation. He found work, work utilizing his skill set, Onslaught wasn't going to beat him to death this evening! This job could also potentially lead to a gateway of leaving town and ditching those four. Things were looking up, he twirled a sunglasses display to his left and plucked a pair of cheap aviator glasses that reminded him of his old face. He felt so great that the cashier could keep the 5 cent change for these.

Onslaught wince at his hand. Riding Jasper had gotten easier but that didn't mean he wanted to remain in the saddle any longer than necessary. And Brawl had prolonged the experience by granting the steer intermissions of leafy snacks alongside the clay road. Which is why he now was stuck dragging the recalcitrant bovine with a heavy leather glove because rope burns and hand wounds don't mix.

Despite Jasper's four mile per hour walking gait and the cantankerous cow, he was leaving his heavy weapons expert in the dust. Brawl stood in his stirrups so his hindquarters didn't support his full weight as he nudged Biscuit to a trot.

'Oh it's just a scratch... BAUH! Serves him right!' He winced as the rope slid.

"You know there is a way that doesn't involve hurting your hand."

"Oh hush I know," Onslaught growled and switched his halter hand with his rein hand.

"That's not what I meant."

"Doesn't matter which hand the reins are in, I'm ambidextrous."

"Ambient what? No just wrap the lead around the front of your saddle," he pointed to the protruding horn, "Yeah like that. Now he won't jerk you around; he's fighting against the horse's strength instead of yours."

The steer tugged at the restraint. Jasper paused, one of his ears rotating like a sonar dish at the offender; Onslaught could feel the behemoth's shoulders building tension and release in a sudden yank in the opposite direction. It took the bovine by surprise as well as off his hooves and there was a clatter as the steer stubbled to regain his footing. Jasper gave a snort and trudged forward. The former anti-aircraft truck found himself smirking and gave the horse a pat on the shoulder like someone who wanted to express appreciation but didn't want to get his mitts dirty by the animal.

Whoosh

A whip of the tail greeted his hip. "Half clocked computing animal!"

Brawl laughed, "Seems he feels the same about you and your ambience.

Onslaught scoffed, "Congrats to you and using a big word."

"Oh yeah? Alright! I don't even know what it means!"

The combaticon commander damn nearly fell out of the saddle as the former tank beamed a smile that took up half his face.

"Ambience is the presence or atmosphere of a place! Ambidextrous means I can use either hand as a dominant hand. Don't use a word if you don't know its meaning; you might give someone the impression that you're smart. Or worse, combiner commander material!"

Brawl gave a belly laugh, "Good point!"

He needed to stop hanging out with Brawl; he could feel his intelligence plunge each astro second but it leveled as they halted their horses at the red mason building. Now he just had to deal with the owner walking out to them.

"You fellers get lost?" Mr. Donner chuckled through his teeth, "Mr. Jones called ahead to let me know you were come'n, he made it sound like I had to get off the phone in a hurry like you would be in the lawn when I got off the phone."

Brawl gave a sheepish grin; Onslaught gave him a side eye stare while he passed the envelope and halter lead to the shop owner. The owner held the envelope to the sun with a squint for an outline of the contents, "Say you boys are them army fellas with engine problems?"

Both shared an eye roll, "Yeah."

"Well I got one of your men working for me. He's the best worker I ever had, fast learning, and a model employee. Wish I had more of him, I'd hire them in a heartbeat."

A cold sweat trailed down the two decepticons' spines and a perturbed frown was shared.

"That said, there's something loose in that boy's head ain't there? Loose wire?"

Two gravely nods answered.

"I figured, caught him earlier playing ventriloquist and interrogation with one of the heads. But I guess we all do that when we start out as a way of coping."

Brawl and Onslaught now both wore faces longer than the draft horses.

"Well I'll take yer horses and get em comfy and you can take this back," Mr. Donner passed the envelope, "give that to yer boy, that'll cover his pay fer today. And take this feller to the back bay door." He gave the steer a farewell pat.

"I'd say he has a loose wire if he enjoys having Vortex work for him," said Brawl in a whispering attempt.

A voice echoed from the back of the building, "HEY COW, HEY COW, COW LOOK OVER HERE, LOOK OVER HERE. Look over here co, you sprocket headed meat sag LOOK AT ME!"

The two turned into the garage door to see their interrogator in the bay, sporting a cadet cap in reverse with a bloody leather apron, shouting at a Jersey steer who watched them, unaware of the shotgun aimed at its head.

"Woah, woah, what are you two crankshafts doing?! Get him out of here! You'll spoil the surprise for him when it's his turn." Vortex addressed the Hereford with the barrel.

Both had heard what his job entailed last night but the outlandishness of the scene kept them rooted with only the sounds of both bovines smacking their cuds.

"Go tie him up outside, out of sight. Now!" If he sees this he's going to wisen up and I want him nice and innocent when it's his turn." The interrogator shook his head at Brawl's unnerved mannerisms as he led the animal outside before properly addressing his commanding officer. "What the slagging scrap do you two want? Can't you see I'm working here?"

His commander growled, "We were told to bring that domesticated farm mammal back here to you, along with this." He flashed the package of pay. "Which I'll hang onto as your insubordination demonstrates you can't handle the responsibility and it would have come to me sooner or later."

"Well it only makes sense that our earnings should be collected by our fearless leader. I mean it's not like you have no comprehension of how to utilize the currency of this planet, or the value of money, or the cost of goods. And lets not forget how good you are at ensuring we don't get cheated in trade. Im glad you are here to know these things that we are too stupid to comprehend."

"You don't know how to either…"

"Not fully, however I couldn't ignore all of Swindle's incessant babble when we were in the Middle East. The numeric system named from that region also happens to be consistent across this planet, even on an international level. This country happens to print Arabic numbers on the paper bills so you can determine the value."

"I have traveled and visited multiple civilizations in the spread of the empire. I have had to figure out local exchange rates and value of items on my own, this is nothing new to me. Have you ever been to another world, or even left Cybertron's atmosphere?" The corner of Onslaught's mouth tugged in annoyance as Vortex responded with an eye roll and indifferent huff.

The interrogator grabbed the tan cow's face and played with it like a human being affectionate with a pet, complete with goofy faces and silly talk. The bovine responded trustingly, waggling its ears and pushing its nose up to his face. "I'd leave if I were you."

"Hmpf, does my presence impede on your ability to perform your job? Do I distract you?"

"No." He casually unholstered a cattleman's revolver and fired into the animal's forehead, "You were distracting him and I wanted a clean shot."

Onslaught felt a brief splatter of warm liquid over him along with the patter of mushy particulates. He scanned his arms to see them splattered by bits of foreign flesh with tufts of fur and a sticky liquid identical to what had leaked out of his hand earlier.

The cow's body plunged to the floor in a heavy thud; Vortex held its head up to watch the black recesses of its pupils fogged like a layer of ice had formed over the lens. "Another job well done! I can't believe I get paid to do this!" He then secured a chain around a hock, activated the pulley hoisting system, and sliced through the major artery in the throat.

So quick and clean that it took Onslaught a moment to realize what had just transpired. He had killed many in his career, even in physical, close range combat. But both sides knew where the other stood, no miss givings in the blatant hostility. The trust and betrayal he just witnessed made his hackles rise, like after learning of Swindle's idiocy. Not to mention the fact that the shop owner had casually given no one, but two guns for the sociopath to use.

Brawl's boots squeaked to a halt at finding a suspended animal ejecting crimson fluid on the floor. "Did I miss something?"

"Yes but not the real show, give me a minute and I'll have stuff to pass around for show and tell."

Brawl gingerly backed up and noticed Onslaught's new style. The combaticon commander strained a groan and approached the workbench for a towel. He found himself scanning the posters of animal silhouettes cluttering the wall. "What do these different cuts and cross sections mean?"

"Different sections of a cow."

He frowned at the smart alack, "Obviously, now what is the importance of each section?"

"Seriously, you two still haven't figured it out yet?!"

"Uhh wall decorations?" said the former tank.

"BAUAHAHAHA! I'll give you a hint, what did we have for dinner for the past two days."

Brawl counted on his fingers, "Uhh meatloaf and beef stew."

"Correct," Vortex tugged as he peeled off the hide, "Now when they are alive they are called cows, but when they are dead they are called meat or beef."

The sentence at first must have gone in one ear and out the other as Brawl pondered unfazed but contorted as if he had sucked a lemon. Vortex smugly smiled at Onslaught when he noticed the towering man adorning a hundred yard stare.

"Bet you're looking forward to dinner. I wonder what cut we'll be served tonight?" He shouldered past his commander as he snatched a hand held circular saw from the bench and returned to the animal's belly with a shrug. "Eh, doesn't matter!" In one graceful, fluid motion he slashed down from the groin to the diaphragm with the whirling blade. Internal organs spilled out like a broken pinata full of chef boyardee pasta.

Vortex severed a bulky organ and presented it. "My boss explained that this is a liver, its functions are…"

"I don't need an anatomy lesson you glitch!"

"So you already know the inner workings of our bodies?"

"No."

"Do humans have livers too?"

"I don't know."

"It would be good to know the basic functions and assortment, it'd help us take care of ourselves."

"We're doing just fine as it is."

"Are you so sure?"

"This is not a discussion to have outside of our quarters!"

Vortex dismissively dropped the liver; it squelched sickly on impact. "No, here is the perfect place to prove my point. We don't really know anything about our organic selves or basic care, let alone customs. And frankly I don't want to damage my liver by accident from something preventable. If I have one."

"We will discuss this at a later time," his voice lowered, "in a more isolated area. For now we're leaving and will return when you are done processing the one tied outside." Onslaught beckoned his fingers for Brawl to follow him.

"No, I want an affirmation now. I intend to set my plan in motion when I am back at our temporary headquarters. I know of a candidate that could benefit us as a guide."

Onslaught balked in the bay threshold and spun on an about face, "If you plan on doing what I think you plan on doing; I don't care if Bruticus is missing a left arm I will..!"

"You said to make myself useful to the team, information extraction is my specialty."

"Your techniques will render us into a human prison."

"Earth prison. Cybertron prison. They are different, it could be enjoyable. We'd be the first to do a comparison"

"TEX!"

"You do know I am capable of being cordial and charismatic that others fully open up to me without having to slice them open? It's just not as fun."

"My answer remains 'no', you've proven from day one that I can't trust you and you're currently disobeying my orders by having this conversation here."

"Fine, I'll just remain consistent about being a reprobate and continue with my plans."

Onslaught gritted his teeth, "Of all those I have had under my commander you by far are the most insubordinate and inefficient pile of spare parts that I have had the displeasure of leading! My original troops followed my orders to even the most minute details and were always victorious."

"So where are they now."

The combaticon commander jabbered his jaw but no sound was released.

"From the way you talk about them, I question. If they followed your orders blindly, were they drones or cold constructs?"

Crosshairs aiming a blast stronger than a supernova rested squarely on Vortex's nose.

"Aww, did I hit a circuit sensor?"

Arms with the speed of a bullet train grabbed the interrogator by his collar with enough crushing power of a junkyard crane, and this time, lifted him completely off the ground. Onslaught had the tunnel vision of an eagle zeroed in on a hare; oblivious of the blood from the apron now dribbling down his hands.

Vortex looked down at him impassively, "Go ahead, just proves cold constructs are sparkless, uncreative, only able to follow the morals preprogrammed in them, and have screws loose in their personality chips."

"Says the muddy tire to tank tread," growled a demonic voice.

A glint of amusement twinkled, "How much you want to bet. Or do you need Swindle to help you on the odds?"

Onslaught squeezed harder, more blood trickled to his elbows. "Don't you dare speak about my previous team so disrespectfully again."

"Oh why is that? Were they such good little drones they followed your orders to the 'T' of their own slau…" Vortex peered down at the hands holding him. "Fascinating."

Onslaught yanked him closer to an eye, "What was that!"

"Boss stop," said Brawl. The redhead put a calm hand on his commander's bicep and gently pushed it down so it lowered the interrogator back on his feet. "And that goes for you Tex."

"Excuse me, did you just interrupt your commanding officer!"

"Something is up and happened at breakfast this morning. I know it, I know you know it, and Tex is probably one step ahead of us. Let him explain what's going on. If he caught on so early he very might be the one to steer us clear."

The decepticon officer folded his arms and fumed at having to swallow his pride, "Well then exhaust it out."

For once, Vortex seemed to genuinely smile. "Joshlynn knows we're hiding something, not of what we really are but that we're off. She did it at breakfast, she figured out that we are following her example and made it seem like Swindle picked the improper liquid to pour with our cereal. She set a trap that you walked into, clever girl.'

'The humans in this town are nosy which is a problem but they're too wrapped up in themselves to pick up our cracks or missed social cues. If we had her as a guide we could blend in faster and know the basics to care for ourselves that we can't learn from observation. Also if you've been paying attention she is kinda an outcast herself; the humans at church avoid her and her grandparents speak over her. I know I can persuade her to our side."

Onslaught frowned and shook his head, "Too risky, pretending to offer companionship to a pariah doesn't always make them loyal to you."

"True but first, if you offer to be a barrier for them against something they despise then it works more in your favor. Fun fact, she and you something in common; she hates that pastor. She does not want to be near him."

Onslaught revealed a sliver of interest.

"Secondly, she has no one to go tell that would believe her. Remember, she's an outcast; and seriously consider, metal cybertronians transformed into pathetic squishy aliens, it's laughably farfetched." Vortex picked the liver back up and returned to his previous job.

Brawl peered up at his commander and nodded 'he has a point' before continuing out of the bay to give the steer some final scratches, leaving the towering man to contemplate.

The crinkle of a page turning echoed in the still farmhouse. Blastoff reclined on the couch with a book at hand. A pile of the encyclopedias from the bunkbed room rested on the coffee table. While these books had dodged the rampage of the whiteout and sharpie crusade; the set was incomplete. The 'A', 'H', 'M', 'N', 'R', and 'S' books were missing. Earlier he had tried to borrow some of the library's stock but those were under reserve and Sophia timidly upheld the rule and without an ID he couldn't get a library card. Despite the embarrassing introduction, the woman had allowed him employment and the job required minimal effort on his part. He also had the leisure to search and read when work was slow, which was the majority of the day.

The section covering the digestive system had nearly been memorized by him and he had shifted his bored curiosity to learn about the contraption he depended on to see. The more he delved the more stumped he became. How did that blonde brat get him the right prescription? According to this article he'd need a certified professional with meticulous machinery to conduct extensive tests to figure out exactly the shape of lens he required. What the scrap was going on?

He sat the book aside while stretching, his lower spine cracked as he settled into the cushion. Plucking the bifocals from his face, he could barely distinguish the square outline of the lens' frame and contemplated crushing the article. It was so fragile, but he depended on it. He believed in Primus as there was proof of his existence; however, believing in another being with the same metaphysical caliber without proof or observation was out right silly. But the new body contradicted his previous notion. And this esoteric being seemed to take personal enjoyment in playing up his insecurities.

Swindle burst through the front as if he had won the lottery and made a bumblebee line for the kitchen faucet.

Blastoff massaged the bridge of his nose, "Well you seem too exuberantly excited." His answer came in large, chugging gulps from the con artist. The former shuttle rolled his eyes and huddled back in seclusion but jolted as Swindle plopped on the other end of the couch arm and nudged his feet.

"I finally found work pertaining to my skill set."

"There's a black market here with a bunch of ignoramuses?"

The former jeep wheezed on his water, "No, I'm balancing books for an oil drill. Oh if only we had our bodies, we could hawk it, refine it, and build up our storage."

"Hrmf, refining crude oil takes a grasp of hydrocarbons and time to make it into palatable fuel. Even with boilers and suitable tanks to achieve pressure points, it could be converted into quality energon wine but maybe of the lowest grade. Nothing compared to Vos's wine."

"Aye, again with the Vos's wine. Did you secure employment at the library as you hoped?"

A grimace answered, "Yes, yes, that meager Earth creature happens to be in charge of the library."

"Oh how pleasant, the woman you passive aggressively scorned the other day is now your boss. How'd you convince her to hire you?"

"You're not the only one that's charming or persuasive."

"Careful, don't use it too much or she might try to court you," he giggled in his drink despite the sniper's crosshairs locking onto him. "All harassment aside, I understand the anguish of being offered jobs you are too over qualified for." He gave his most understanding smile.

Insulted, Blastoff watched his leg counterpart impassively that it made the seconds painfully slow. Swindle traced the tip of his fourth finger on the lip of his glass to contend the tension; it made a long, exasperated squeak like a balloon slowly releasing air. He could see Blastoff's lower eyelid twitch. The merchant heaved a sigh, "I need to talk to you about what I brought up this morning."

"And I had mentioned I might consider it if things had gone my way today," snubbed the sniper as he began gathering the books off the coffee table and made his way down the hall.

"Uh yeah, you got the job, it turned out how you wanted, we need to have a discussion."

"Things did not go my way, I'm still stuck in this body and asking for a complete, unvandalized set of encyclopedias is too much to ask for!"

Swindle muttered in his glass, "For someone so smart you're dumb to set unrealistic standards. The smack of the books being roughly shoved on a shelf snapped him out of his musings.

"As for your concern from this morning," he pushed Swindle back into the hall to retrieve the rest of the books in the living room, "what possible problems could a small, inexperienced human cause to us."

"Alot, she's already reported concerns about us to one of her authority figures. We're just lucky those concerns were dismissed. But how long will that stick if she keeps it up?! It's almost time for everyone to come back for dinner. We need to bring this up to Ons and I need your help; he trusts your word more than mine."

"Why should I believe what you say, a little human being a threat to us? We have so much life experience currently that it's exponential compared to her species life expectancy. Onslaught would agree with what I'm saying right now by the way."

Swindle braced himself for what he was about to dredge up, "I'm surprised you say the 'little guy' is incapable of causing trouble, especially after the ONE incident."

Blastoff spun on his heel only to meet the con artist's cool gaze.

"I'm not trying to open old wounds but prevent problems that will lead all five of us to rumination. She is watching us and can see through our concocted identity, if we don't act now we could end up in a world of trouble. We can't underestimate her!"

A moo box with a dying battery lazily trailed through the room. Both men pinpointed the noise at the kitchen bar to see Joshlynn arm deep in a cow shaped cookie jar.

Vortex strode with a vacuum sealed tenderloin over his shoulder , "Ah, such a great first day, can't believe this is a way to make a living."

Both horses walked nervously at his cheeriness and smell of blood reeking from the stacked packages stored on their backs. Brawl rubbed Biscuit's face reassuringly.

"Tex," came Onslaught's voice low and calm, "If I allowed you to convince the small human to help us and things go wrong, what is your plan to amend it?"

"Hide the body in the deep freezer in the garage shed. We have enough meat here that it would completely cover it, but I don't believe it would come down to that. If Joshlynn happens to be concerned about her safety she will try to mitigate the danger aimed at herself and her family. Which for us means 'keep your vocalizer shut'." He flung the rickety garage door open and made his way to the chest freezer.

"I still don't like this idea."

"Boss, give him a chance. He tried to throw Joshlynn off our trail this morning. Can't even imagine how awful mixing those two liquids tasted."

Vortex shrugged with a smirk, "Eh, it wasn't too bad."

Onslaught cringed at the memory of the bitter mixture assaulting his mouth, "I can find all the reasons to not let you do this but I can't find another way to fix this. I will allow this, but you are to report to me every single finding, am I clear?"

"Crystal."

"Good, Tony take care of the horses, you know how to do it. Tex, to the house, I'm going to observe this from a distance." He left the garage for the front porch.

Vortex stretched his arms behind him, "Welp, Brawl ole buddy, thanks for the encouragement because things are about to get interesting!"

WHAM

The interrogator gasped as the wind was nearly knocked out of him from Brawl's forearm lodging him in the wall. "Boss said to use our human names outside our rooms. Also Tex, if you scrap this up, don't worry about if I'll stand up for you again. I'm just going to dump your corpse in there." He pointed at the freezer.

"Goooood tooo knoooow…"

Onslaught made his way up the porch but paused when he noticed Joshlynn's bike slumped against the step railing. The front wheel was bent at ninety degrees, rendering it useless for riding. One could only hope she had hit her head from what ever had caused that.

He tensed in the foyer, his soldier instincts on full alert. Too quiet and still. Floor boards rattled and boots squeaked in his subordinates' room down the hall. If Swindle and Blastoff were back it was probably another one of their domestic squabbles. No need for his interference, this would burn itself out; but, if their nosy landlords took offense to their inharmonious habits, this would lead to problems.

Fine, he'd play imposer. He laggard down the hall and opened the bedroom door. Only to witness his arms dealer body shielding a bound and gagged teenager in a chair, while his sniper was ready to swing the bottom post of a floor lamp on the girl's head.

"WHAT THE SLAG IS GOING ON HERE!"

"Ons! She's onto us, I was trying to bribe her with something to shield us but Blastoff wanted to permanently silence her."

"Don't use my real name idiot! She isn't cooperating, she won't tell me how she knew I needed glasses or where she got them, she's a threat."

Swindle's and Blastoff's bitter squawking increased and Onslaught positioned himself in the midst to retain some order. Too wrapped up in their own argument, Joshlynn urgently dug the tips of her boots into the floor to scoot her chair toward the exit. She was just about to clear through the door, only for Vortex to appear through it. He leaned against the frame with a devilish smirk, "Looks like I missed the excitement."

The girl dug her heels to try a back pedal. "Whoa, whoa, grumpy pants. Why don't you calm down a minute?" He draped an arm over her shoulder and the back of the chair, keeping her pinned. "What ya say, I untie you and remove that gag from your mouth and you tell me a story."

She fervently shook her head. Her pupils so dilated he could barely see her irises.

The decepticon diverted a quick glance at his teammates and softened his grin as he shifted behind her and undid the knot. "If you tell me what you won't tell them. I'll make sure they get a swift pay back," his voice softening.

She bolted for the door the second the ropes loosen off her arms, Vortex snagged her wrist and playfully reeled her towards him. "Tsk, tsk, that's not part of the agreement."

Her free hand yanked the gag from her teeth and she screamed, "Yellow eyes! Yellow eyes gave the glasses to me!"

Dun, dun, DUN!

Thanks for reading, I hope you are enjoying this inanity.

For the reviews I have received, I can't express the joy I get reading them each time and hearing your feedback. Thank you for the time you took to write them, they make me strive to improve my writing and insure there is more laughter ahead.

Til next time.