[Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or it's associated characters. In addition to the warnings in the summary, there will be ethnic slurs, stalking triggers, drug abuse/self-medicating triggers, PSTD triggers, and possibly badly translated Japanese ahoy. Phrases used do not reflect the views of the author and are used for narrative reasons. Except the bit about the hovercraft and eels.]

It had been one of the happiest days in his life when that cast finally came off and, after a few days adjusting to hobbling around on a cane, Tracks finally loosening up enough to let Raoul go out again on his own. Sure, he still had to call in whenever he was going to be out after 8:30 at night but at least it was better than the 6 pm curfew the big guy had used to keep him under. And, god, was it great to be out with the Bop Crew again, even if he was stuck on the sidelines for now. He was cool with being the bankroll in addition to being self-appointed manager and promotions department, despite the guys insisting he didn't have to. But now his freedom was again being threatened by a strange little creeper.

Raoul had barely limped down the steps when he caught sight of the creeper slinking along the chain-link fence around the basketball court. He cringed and started hobbling a little faster, nearly tripping over his feet in a rush to catch up with Pop and Rocksteady. It was a bit stupid of him but lately Raoul couldn't stand being alone, especially not when the creeper was around. He just wrote him off at first as being somebody's friend or a cousin, but nobody Raoul asked seemed to know who the creeper was. He tried to shrug it off as a coincidence until one day he'd noticed the creeper had followed him and the guys to the subway, even going out of the way to sit right across from them despite how empty the rest of the car was.

It took about a week of this before it finally dawned on Raoul that the creeper had been lurking around since he had left the hospital, watching him behind those freaky wrap-around shades like a vulture in Adidas. The creeper had been hanging around in the shadows when he'd gone with the guys to take on some punks from Queens, always lurking just at the edge of the park whenever Raoul passed by, and the little shit had even been perched in a back booth that one time last week when he snuck out for a burger with Isabel from second period.

The last straw came two days ago when Raoul paid a visit to one of his uncle's old buddies, Lenny the Benny-Man. He might not have gone to see the crazy old bastard but those pills the doctors kept shoving at him had left him feeling like a goddamn zombie. What he really needed was something that would juice him up and, if he could trust the word on the street, Lenny had gotten a some nice fresh Florida snow which he was selling off at cost. Besides, even if that cranked-out goatbanger was out of coke, Raoul knew he always had some speed stashed away for a rainy day…or one of his favorite old customers.

Raoul slipped out of class that sunny morning and managed to limp all the way to Astoria. As he went past Markov's Deli to get to the apartments above, Raoul thought he saw the creeper talking with a very nicely dressed pair of tourists, a leggy guy with pink tea-shades and one really cute redhead in a sweater. When he looked back to make sure, there was only the tourist girl who smiled at him before running off after her boyfriend. Red was actually much prettier than Raoul first thought and he briefly considered giving chase, but shrugged it off, reminding himself that she undoubtedly was just another one of the dumb Eurotrash cunts that infested this neighborhood like cockroaches. He did his best to keep looking like the tough guy despite how lightheaded he felt and forced himself to climb both the near vertical flights of stairs.

Much to his uneasy, he noticed that Lenny's door was cracked open slightly spilling light out over the worn hall carpet in a shockingly bold red streak. Raoul briefly wondered if he should just turn around but he'd already forced himself to come this far despite how agonizing it was and the thought of going back empty handed was enough incentive for him to slip inside. The place was much the way Raoul remembered it from when he tag along with his uncle, crammed full of tchotchkes from the Old Country and that ash-tray of a ugly woman with comically huge tits flashing her cooch was still on the coffee table. The only thing that seemed off was the unusually sharp, clinical stench of bleach crawling out from underneath that special stink of blunts and stale beer which permeated everything Lenny came into contact with. Little alarms went off in Raoul's head, telling him that he should turn and RUN.

But he brushed off as a stupid moment of paranoia and, straining to breath normally, he crept slowly to the kitchen. Raoul idly noticed that Lenny's housekeeping had apparently improved astronomically since the last time he had been there. The counters were clean and clear, sinks empty and even the floor had that sparkling shine he'd only seen in commercials. Maybe the crazy geezer had finally found himself an old lady with a thing for unibrows. Then he noticed a bloody wad of paper-towels hanging out of the garbage.

Before Raoul could react, someone slammed into him from behind and pinned him to the floor. He kicked and squirmed against the guy until he finally managed to catch him in groin with a knee. Taking advantage of his attacker's sudden loss of interest, Raoul scrambled to his feet and pulled out a switchblade as he took a good look at the guy: a scrawny skinhead in an apron with more holes in his head than brains.

"Who the fuck are you?" he snapped, bracing himself against the table before his leg could give out and send him back down to the floor.

"I should ask you that, shithead!" the skinhead hissed. He hopped up to his feet, getting as far up in Raoul's face as he could with the knife between them. "What the fuck are you doing creeping around, huh? Trying to rob us or some shit?"

"No. I'm just looking for Lenny. My uncle's an old buddy of his and I thought he be looking to do a bit of business. Now why don't you go tell the old goatfucker I'm here?"

"Then why ain't I ever seen your sorry ass before, huh?" The skinhead licked his lips, not really caring that Raoul could easily stick him in the ribs. "You don't look like the kind of guy Lenny'd do business with. So why don't you just fuck off, faggot?"

Raoul's hand shot up, leaving his knife just grazing the tip of the skinhead's nose. "Call me that again, motherfucker, and I'll give you a brand new piercing right in the goddamn neck."

"Wha' the hell is goin' on here?" barked Lenny, appearing like a bad conjuring trick in the doorway. "Sammy, wha' are yeh doin'?"

"He broke in, Mister Moisis, and I—."

"So yeh come in and start fightin' in my house?" grumbled the old man, marching over to them and setting a greasy bag on the table. He shot Raoul a quick glare as he noticed the knife. "Put that damn thing away, boy. I won't have that goin' on in my house. Sammy, go make yer-self useful and help Markov's boy bring in that new soda machine."

"Yes, Mister Moisis." The skinhead he slinked away, growling and cursing under his breath.

Lenny shook his shaggy head with a sigh before he bent down for Raoul's cane. "Now young man, who are yeh and wha' are yeh doin' here?"

"Lenny, don't ya' remember me? I'm Mitch Alonzo's nephew." Raoul gagged a bit at the pungent stink of sesame oil wafting off the cheap take-out, but managed to croak out a few more words. "We gotcha' that sweet deal on your sister's car, remember?"

"Raoul?" The old man squinted at him then gave the boy a grin only a dentist could love before bear hugging him. "Shit, yeh went and grew up on me! Last time I saw yeh, yeh nuthin' but a skinny lil' spic brat. Yeh look like yeh've actually eaten a real meal or two." He paused a moment then laughed. "But yer a still a bratty lil' spic."

"And you're still a greasy old goatfucker, I see," chuckled Raoul as he patted the old man on the back. "How you been, Lenny?"

"Eh, good, good. My niece Cali was just here for a visit. We went and had some nosh with a couple of my associates at this Chinese place…Panda Pagoda, I think. If yeh'd called, I might've introduced yeh to her over some coffee. She's a good gal, seventeen, real smart and real pretty… Cali got the most gorgeous brown eyes you'd ever seen." He gently elbowed Raoul in the ribs. "And single too. Maybe I give yeh her number, eh?"

"Lenny, I'm sure she's the loveliest gal in the Tri-state area, but I ain't here to get a date."

The old man shrugged. "Worth a shot. So, wha' yeh lookin' for? I don't sell stereos no more, but I can getcha' in touch with a fella' on Staten Island."

"I ain't sellin', either. I'm buyin'."

"No shit?" the old man sat down and fumbled through his shirt pocket with bandaged fingers to fish out a nasty little cigar. "When the hell yeh get money? Last I heard, yeh owed the Geddis' some serious cash. Sumtin' 'bout yeh breakin' into one of Big Jim's shops…"

"Yeah, well that…that got sorted out a while ago."

Lenny raised an eyebrow. "Funny… I heard Jim is still awful sore 'bout that. And then there's that thing about his boys getting' roughed up by those…whatcha' call 'em? Them robot aliens guys…"

"Autobots. They're called Autobots, Lenny."

"Yeah! Those guys! Heard yeh were real cozy with 'em."

Raoul squirmed a bit. "So what? Last time I checked, it wasn't a crime to have friends…even if they are robots from outer space."

"Oh, of course it ain't. I'm just sayin' that it's kinda funny yeh took up with this alien fellas right after getting' in some deep shit with Jim and Phil Geddis." Lenny paused a moment in thought. "Then again, if I was yeh, I'd do the same. The Geddis brothers did yeh and yer uncle dirty. Mitch took the fall for their boys when they busted that chop shop, yeh both have kept yer mouths shut, and what do they go and do? Stiffed yeh both out of yer cut and threw him to the fuckin' dogs. Back in my day, the Old Man Geddis took good care of all his boys, even the niggers… Then those idiot sons of his took over and..." Lenny sighed, reaching out a heavily bandaged hand to pat Raoul's. "I get why yeh'd want to get even. Doesn't hurt havin' some big, scary friends on yer side this time, does it?"

Raoul frowned. "Look Lenny, I didn't come here for a lecture on ancient history. If you ain't selling, just say so and I'll be on my merry way."

"Wha' is it with yeh kids today?" Lenny sighed again, shaking his head miserably. "Yeh always gotta rush things, never takin' time to enjoy a bit of conversation."

"Yeah, well that ain't a conversation I want to have today. I just wanna know if you've got any coke left."

"Yeh can't keep doin' this shit, boy," Lenny grumbled. "I know yeh kids like to take this stuff before yeh go out partying, but it's the middle of the week! I don't see nobody comin' to buy this early unless they got a monkey on their back, yeh follow me?"

"Lenny, you are the last person on Earth that has any right to judge me," snapped Raoul, then his tone softened. "Look, I'm not tryin' to be rude. I just don't wanna talk about that shit right now. Besides, I honestly don't have time to chat right now. My old man thinks I'm in class right now…"

The old man's frown deepened. "Yeh ain't really changed at all, have yeh?"

"It ain't like that, Lenny. We're not… He's…" Raoul paused, then coldly said, "Lenny, he's more like my warden. 'Sides, even if I wanted to fuck him, we can't cause he's…well, he's a robot and almost fifty feet tall. And he's made it very fuckin' clear that it won't ever happen... Right now, I just want to be comfortably numb. So, do you have anything left to sell?

"Yeah, I've a little left. And, before yeh ask, I've still sell speed too." The old man paused, lips pursed as he thought something over, then added, "In fact, I just got a whole batch of this new designer stuff from Europe. Really nice, like speed and acid all mixed together but makes yeh fell all happy inside. How much yeh want?"

A grin spread over Raoul's face as he relaxed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle of pills and a small box. "As much coke as you can give me and enough of that fancy designer shit to fill this bottle up."

Lenny raised an eyebrow, taking the first bottle from him. "Let's see, Xanax, 1 mg? 'Take 3 times a day as needed for anxiety'?" He sat the bottle down and picked up the box, inspecting it with care. "Restoril 15 mg, 'take before retiring'? Jesus… They must've messed ya' up pretty damn bad?"

"They who?"

"The Geddis' boys. At least, that's who they're sayin' jumped yer ass. Ain't they the ones who put yeh in the hospital?"

Raoul blinked at him in surprise. "Really? That's news to me…"

"Well, who else would want yeh dead?"

Maybe it was the smell of cheap Chinese food or way Lenny rasped his words, but Raoul found himself yank out of Lenny's kitchen and face down in the dumpster again. He could feel a heavy metal claw pressing down on his back while Buzzsaw tugged and pulled at his jacket, cursing angrily as he tried to use his broken beak. Suddenly, there was a flash of light that smelled like ozone and Raoul was back, sitting at the table with peeling fake wood veneer and Lenny staring at him in concern.

"Yeh okay, son?"

"Uh, yeah," Raoul muttered, reaching up to brush the phantoms of rotten noodles off his face.

Lenny only nodded sadly, handing the pills back to him as he got up. "Keep those, son. I think yeh might still need 'em."

He didn't say anything as Lenny left the room and came back a moment later with a battered lunchbox. The old man sat it on the table, then resumed his seat across from the boy.

"This is the last of the blow I have," Lenny said as he took a couple of vials out of the lunchbox. "I'll let yeh for twenty and this—" He held up a small packet of pills, hesitating a moment before passing it to Raoul. "This I'm giving to yeh for free. Kind of taste test, yeh know?"

"That's awfully generous of you, Lenny. It's been a pleasure doing business with you." Raoul handed over the money and quickly pocketed the goods. As he got up to leave, the old man grabbed his arm.

"Listen son…" Lenny began, his voice oddly subdued. "Yeh be careful with that stuff. I… I ain't tried any of it myself and I'm…I'm not sure if they'll work like that German fella said."

Raoul tensed, shooting the old man a panicked look. "What German fella?"

"My new…uh, business associate. He and his…his friends were the ones I took out to lunch." Lenny suddenly glanced down at his bandaged hand. "Look Raoul, I… I want yeh to know that I've always thought highly of yeh and yer uncle. I ain't never had nothin' bad to say 'bout either of yeh… But don't yeh ever come back here again, alright? It's for yer own good. Nothin' personal, yeh understand? Just…business."

"Hey, it's cool Lenny. I know how it goes." Raoul reached out and patted the older man's shoulder. He went over to the counter and poked around till he found a notepad and pen. "Listen, if…if you need any help or just wanna shoot the shit sometime, here's my number. Just don't let Tracks—eh, Mister Perlman know that you were in the business, alright?"

"Of course, of course…" Lenny nodded with a smile, but his eyes still seemed sad and distant. "Yeh take care of yerself, Raoul."

"See you around, Lenny." On that, Raoul walked out to hallway and, just as he closed the door, he thought he heard the old man start to quietly sob. He limped down the stairs, so wrapped up in his own uneasiness that he nearly ran right into the creeper as he came out of Markov's Deli.

He stood there, frozen in terror while the creeper just stared. Then, the creeper smiled broadly at him and shoved a little wrapped box into his hand before wandering off into the late lunch crowd. It was only after he'd gotten back to the school that Raoul's curiosity about the little gift finally got the better of him. He decided to duck into a bathroom and opened the creeper's present: a freshly severed pinky finger.

And now here they were again, Raoul walking along with his crew and the creeper trailing behind them like goldfish crap. He knew that he should tell Tracks about the little bastard, but...well, then it be over. He'd end up cooped up again in that penthouse prison with the big guy hovering over him like an old Jewish grandma, fussing and futzing and never letting him out on his own again. And he just couldn't stand the thought of doing that again…

"Hey! You home, man?" Rocksteady waved a hand in front of his face. "I keep talkin' to you, boy, but you just keep starin' like a zombie!"

"Huh? Oh, sorry... Kind of spaced out there." He dug into his pocket for the coke vial and did a bump. Then he noticed Pop was kind of looking at him funny. "What? You want some?"

"Uh, no thanks." He watched Raoul down the pills in silence. They walked along for a moment before Pop finally spoke up. "Raoul, you know you're a friend-hell man, you might as well be my brother-and I really shouldn't say nothing but did you ever think that maybe you're overdoin' it with that shit?" When he didn't get an answer, Pop pressed on. "Look, I know you've been through a lot of shit lately but you oughta cut back on the blow man. I think it's messing with your head..."

"And just why is that? You sayin' I'm a junkie?" Raoul growled.

Pop shifted nervously. "No, I ain't saying that. Sure, getting wasted and doing some speed and weed on the weekend is one thing but I've only seen you doin' coke like this when Paul was around. This ain't like you, Raoul. You used have your shit together, man."

"I'm doing just fine, Pop."

"No, no you're not. Raoul, you are not acting normal. It's like you just shut down or something. You won't talk about what happened that night. Fuck, you hardly talk to anybody about anything anymore. I thought you were our boy. I thought you'd at least trust me and Rocksteady. You know we'd go to hell and back for you. You need to quit acting like everything's fine and that you don't have a problem. Just let it out."

"Pop's got a point. Though to be honest, I think you just need to suck it up and..." Rocksteady stopped suddenly when he noticed the creeper strolling along behind them. "Aw, shit. It's that clown again, ain't it?"

"I'd wish he'd just fuck off already," Pop said quietly. "That guy gives me the creeps."

"Cheer up, man," muttered Raoul. "At least he doesn't follow you home..."

"Well, he ain't gonna be followin' anybody when I'm done with him..." Rocksteady snapped. He started to turn, but Raoul grabbed his arm.

"Don't worry about it," he growled softly. "I can handle this."

"You sure? Look, you know we both got your back, man. A guy in your condition shouldn't—"

"I'll take care of it, Solly," Raoul snarled, putting emphasis on Rocksteady's real name.

After a short silence, Pop brought up an upcoming battle in Mount Morris and they fell into talking shit about the other crews while hashing out their own plan of attack. By the time they'd decided who to recruit into the crew-because two dancers and a cripple just wouldn't cut it in Harlem-, the subway entrance loomed before them.

Raoul waved good-bye at the top of the stairs, disappearing into the late afternoon commuters. He let the crowd drag him downstairs and through the turnstiles before finally breaking away to duck into the men's room. He limped straight to the last stall, thankful that it was both empty and relatively clean before locking the door. Scrambling up onto the toilet rim, Raoul waited for what seemed like a hundred years until the last guy finished his piss and left.

Barely a second afterward, there was a faint click of the main door locking and the soft pattering of sneakers on tile. He waited, breathless but eager as the creeper working his way down each stall, stopping to check in each one. Finally, the creeper reached the last stall and somehow managed to unlock the door from the outside. Raoul didn't even give him a chance to duck before he swung his cane down and crack the creeper over the head.

The creeper went sprawling onto the floor, glasses clattered over the tile. In one quick motion, Raoul hopped down off the toilet and hauled the creeper up to pin him against the wall. Pain shot through his leg at the sudden action but he ignored it, putting on his best sneer as he whipped out the switchblade he'd managed to hide from Tracks.

"Alright, asshole. You've got ten seconds to tell me what the fuck your deal is!"

"Sumimasen! Sore o shūnō shite kudasai! Kono ore wa anata to hanashitai, " the creeper babbled at him, head bobbing as much as possible without cutting himself. Suddenly, he began to giggle nervously. "Ochitsuite kudasai. Ore no jōshi wa, boku wa anata ni okurimono o shitai to kangaete imasu."

"Cut that shit out!" Raoul put the knife right underneath his nose. "Do you see this? I ain't in the mood for this bullshit!"

"Honki desu ka? Atama itteru! Omae ikareteru!" snapped the creeper, his giggling taking on a malicious edge. "Te-o dokete-yo! Dare-ni mukatte mono itten-dayo?"

"What the fuck did you just say?"

"Anata wa boku ga anata o shi rikai shite inai?" asked the creeper, glancing up from underneath his hat with a little smile. "Ore no hobākurafuto wa unagi de ippai desu. Temee ga modotte ore no basho hazumu· hazumu ni kite hoshīdesu ka?"

Raoul stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. "Jesus fucking Christ... Just what I need; a crazy chink tourist..."

The creeper was still smiling but there was a noticeable sharpness to it. "You name Ra-ool Ah-lawn-so, yes?"

"...yeah?" he answered, caught off guard by the fact that the creeper knew his name. His grip loosened slightly as he lowered his knife."Whatcha want?"

"Here." The creeper reached into his jacket and held out a packet wrapped in white paper and a red bow with both his hands. The creeper bobbed his head down, almost as if he was embarrassed about handing the little present over. "For you."

Raoul just stared at the packet. "What the fuck is in that? You hack off somebody else's finger?"

"Iie! No yubitusme. For you," repeated the creeper. When Raoul still wouldn't take it, the creeper added in a mumble, "Very special gift from Destron robot friend."

"Datsun robot? Is that what you're trying to say?"

"Yes-yes! Special gift!"

Still wary, Raoul took the packet and turned slightly away from the creeper but blocking him from getting to the door. He carefully slit the paper and slipped out a very fat plastic case. Inside it was a business card for something called 'Dios Zero' with a message written on the back and a bundle of wire with little pads attached to them and ending in a narrow plastic rectangle with a flat metal plug. His interest peaked, Raoul read the plain typed out words:

'When they're not watching, plug in and come to me in the land of steel and light.'

"Hey, what the hell is-" He turned and found that the creeper had somehow vanished. He looked around quickly, but there was no possible way that the creeper could have gotten past him without being seen. Finally, Raoul just shrugged, pocketing his knife as he limped to the bathroom door, stopping only to scoop up the creeper's shades and stuffing them into his other pocket along with the 'very special gift'. He went out to the platform and waited for the next train to arrive, not noticing that he was being watched closely by the man in tea-shades and his pretty little redhead.

"He should have been home by now," murmured Tracks again as he paced around the kitchen wringing his apron in his hands. "Something's happened, I know it!"

"Will you just chill out, babe?" Jazz muttered. He finished off the last of his coffee, gazing down at the now empty cup sadly. "Boy's just running a little late. Nothing to get excited about."

"But you just finished telling me that there were Decepticons sighted nearby!" huffed the disguised Autobot angrily.

Jazz sighed, pointedly holding his cup up as he spoke. "No, I said there had been signs that the 'cons were active around Chicago recently. Nothing definite and nowhere near New York, so just calm down. Nothing that can't wait till we have our little chat with Prowl and the others."

"It's still too close for comfort," Tracks grumbled, ignoring Jazz wiggling his cup impatiently. "And just why would Prowl be so keen on a meeting if there wasn't something serious afoot?"

"Because he's Prowl. Status updates are something he'd ask for eventually. All you need to tell him are things like how Raoul is doing and that everything is 'all clear'. Once he's satisfied, Prowl will get us up to speed on what the current situation on the East Coast. I told you it's nothing serious, so just chill out. Now how about giving me more of that wonderful coffee, pretty please oh darling dear?"

Tracks frowned and reluctantly poured him another cup. "You do realize that overindulging in this substance could cause issue with the holo-nanites, right?"

"Yeah, yeah... Still, it's the closest human food that compares to nitrous I've found yet," purred Jazz as he happily sipped his coffee.

"You and your nitrous..." Tracks muttered as he finished washing the last of the dishes. "Some days, I wonder which you love more..."

"Ah hell..." Jazz got up and went over to Tracks, wrapping his arms around Tracks waist. "You know that I love—"

"Hey, big guy! I'm home!" Raoul barked as he hobbled through the door.

Tracks ran over to him and scooped the boy up into a tight hug. "Thank the lord! I've been worried half to death!"

"Jesus, Tracks! Easy up or you're gonna crack my ribs..."

"...sorry." He loosened his grip slightly, but still held Raoul close. He nuzzled the boy's neck, enjoying the feeling of rough hair against his cheek while noting smell of sweat and heavy smoking that lingered on him. "But I've told you a thousand times to call me if you're going to be late.

"I know, I know..." Raoul sighed quietly as he cuddled closer. "I just lost track of time and missed my train."

There was a soft cough from the couch. "Um, I hate to break this up but don't you and Jazz have a debriefing to go to?"

Tracks stiffened and drew away from Raoul quickly. "Thank you, Rewind." His tone was icy as he shot a glare from the meek looking young man now standing next to a grinning Jazz.

"Prowl can wait a bit," chuckled the saboteur as he lazily drank his coffee. "Nice to see you again, babe. You remember Rewind and Eject, right?"

"Uh, yeah. Hi guys," Raoul muttered, edging slightly away from Tracks in embarrassment. "You guys have those hologram things too?"

"Yeah, but these are still in the experimental stages." Rewind murmured. Despite looking like any other basement dwelling little momma's boy Raoul had seen, there was something slightly off about the way he moved that made him seem even creepier. "We've gotten most of the kinks worked out for the miniaturized holo-projection unit, but there's still some oddities in motions as you've probably noticed by now."

"I haven't noticed humans responding to anything weird," chirped a girlish voice.

Up off the couch bounced the kind of girl Raoul had only seen smiling from between the pages of a Penthouse centerfold. Her tiny little cut-off tee was threatening to show off more than just the Giants' logo as she bounded over to Rewind's side.

"All the people we've encountered so far have been extremely friendly and I've not at any of them disturbed by our holos. In fact, both the doormen and that young man at the front desk went out of their way to help when we came in. There was even a guy on the elevator that wanted to take me out to see a movie," she chirped between smacks on her gum. "I'd say these holo-forms are working just fine."

Tracks frowned at her. "Eject, I hate to break this to you but I'm afraid your positive experiences so far are caused by a certain... bias on the part of most human males you've encountered."

"Holy shit!" Raoul gaped at them. "Eject?! You're really a smoking hot babe?"

Eject just smiled. "Nah. I'm male. But these 'boob' things sounded interesting, so I decided to try out being a human femme. Did I do a good job picking out a holo? It's based off a model called Venice Kong."

Tracks' frown deepened. "She wouldn't happen to be one of those 'models' Sunstreaker picked out, would she?"

"Eh, well..." Eject coughed nervously. "Sunny did say that she was a Playmate centerfold. From my data, it's a very popular photo publication so I'm sure he picked this design to meet up with the most artistic of human standards."

"Oh, trust me...you're a work of fucking art," muttered Raoul as he leered at Eject's holo. "Now I ain't gay so don't take this the wrong way man, but I'd love to help you test that body out, if you know what I mean."

Eject just smiled cheerfully at him. "Thanks! Percy's been wanting some more data on the holos, so maybe you and I could-"

"No." Tracks slide between her and Raoul, glaring at the disguised cassette. "I will remind you, little one, that you're both under the age of consent. And I will not tolerate that kind of behavior under this roof."

Eject pouted up at him. "But Tracks, it's for science! And, if you want to get technical about it, Raoul and I are both roughly the same age, so..."

"I will not repeat myself," he grumbled with that fatherly tone of disapproval Raoul had learned to dread. "None of you are to take any part in that kind of experimentation for any reason. Is that clear?"

"...yes sir..." muttered Eject as she slinked back to the couch to sulk.

"Aw, don't be so hard on the youngin', babe," murmured Jazz as he slid up behind Raoul and wrapped his arms around the boy's waist. "They're just kids, you know? And kids are gonna fool around. Don't you recall when you were..." Jazz suddenly stopped when he noticed the vaguely horrified look on Tracks' face. "Uh, okay. Bad example..."

"If Preceptor is so keen on getting such data, than he can get it himself." hissed Track in a tone so cold it could have frozen a nuclear reactor. His expression softened as he turned his attention to Raoul. "We really must be going if we don't want to be late for the meeting. I shouldn't be gone for long, but in case I'm late getting back there's some dinner for you in the oven. Do you need me to pick you up anything while we're out?"

"...noooh..." chuckled the boy while Jazz nuzzled his neck and played with his ponytail. There was a faint growl from Tracks which caused the saboteur to let him go much to Raoul's disappointment. "See you guys when you get home."

Jazz was just about to follow Tracks out the door when he paused. "Wait! I almost forgot something..."

Grinning madly, he darted forward and scooped Raoul up into a startlingly passionate kiss. He broke off the embrace just as quickly and smirked. "I'm been wanting to do that for months!"

Expression going for shock to fury, Tracks snapped something in Cybertronian while the cassettes just snickered.

"I love you too, darling dear!" Jazz cackled before cutting off his holo, leaving a fallen heap of clothes and his shades on the floor.

Raoul stared at it in mild confusion, still taken off guard by the sudden outburst of affection. "...what hell was that about?"

"It's just Jazz being...Jazz," growled Tracks, coming up to the boy and putting an arm around him. "I wouldn't take it seriously if I were you."

"But he kissed me... With tongue..."

"Don't think too hard about it," Tracks grumbled. "He probably thought it was funny. Jazz has an...odd sense of humor..."

"...right." He blinked up at the quietly fuming Corvette. "By the way, why did you call him a monkey spanker?" He paused a second, then smiled. "I mean, he did cop a feel, but-"

"Actually, that's his name," chirped Rewind. "Eh, well... Munka Spanka closest approximation of his real name that is possible with human vocal cords. It's really very difficult for you guys to says our names so we use codenames to make it easier on you."

"For real? I thought those were your names!"

"Nope!" Rewind hopped off the couch excitedly. "We all use pseudonyms or nicknames."

"So how do you guys pick?"

"Oh, it's actually a very interesting process but a little complicated to explain... Do you have that Teletraan unit handy? She might be able to simplify things..."

"Tandy's in my room." Raoul pointed out the door and watched Rewind scamper off happily.

"Well, things seem to be back to normal," hummed Tracks, now smiling warmly as he slid an arm around the boy's shoulders. "Promise me you won't give Rewind a hard time. He tends to get... excited sometimes."

"I'll behave..." he muttered. When Tracks started to pull away, Raoul caught hold of his arm. "Hey! Aren't you gonna kiss me good bye too?"

He hesitated, then quickly planted a very chaste peck on Raoul's cheek. "There! Now I really have to run. I will call you if we're going to be late."

"See you later, big guy," sighed Raoul not bothering to hide his disappointment as Tracks hurried out the door.