Transitional Stages

by V the Happy Lurker

"How come you never let me drive?" It all started out with a simple question and a car wash. Things snowballed after that... Slash, UST, angst, body horror, general horror, and an unhealthy dose of CRACK.

5. Stage 01-05: Ignition

[Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or it's associated characters. In addition to the warnings in the summary, there will be foul/obscene language, disturbing situations, body horror, altered states, drug abuse/self-medicating triggers, PSTD triggers, and various unpleasantly violent acts. Phrases and activities appearing in text do not reflect the views of the author and are used for narrative reasons.]

"What in the Pit was that about?" Tracks hissed as he stormed into the safe house.

Jazz got up from the console and gave him the biggest smiles. "Pardon?"

"Do not act like you do not know what I'm talking about."

"Well," purred Jazz. "I wanted to give the boy a little something…"

Tracks glared at him. "I cannot believe you'd do such a thing!"

The only reply was a widening smile and an arched eye ridge.

"I take it back. I completely believe you'd do such a thing!" he snarled, thankful that the muster room was still empty. "A mech your age should know better than to pull such puerile, asinine stunts. That was completely out of line!"

"Raoul did seem to mind too much…"

Fuming, the Corvette bore down on him until he had Jazz backed against the console. "How dare you do such a thing! He's still a child, Jazz. A child. And you… you had to go and… With tongue?!"

The saboteur just shrugged. "Well, honey, in my defense… He'll be legal in only three more days. Everyone can see Raoul wants you bad. Even I can see it…" He laughed, flipping up his visor to reveal the dulled eyes that stared blankly at Tracks. "And you want him just as bad."

Tracks stiffened. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"That's a load of slag," snapped Jazz, the smile dropping suddenly. "Remember, this bond go three ways, darling dear. And I ain't playing games with you tonight. Now don't get up in my face and act like you ain't thinking the same thing Raoul is."

"The difference is between thinking it and acting upon it."

"Oh! So you're finally admitting it?" rasped Jazz, again smiling but with an edge to it.

"I am not admitting any damn thing," Tracks snapped, leaning in till he was almost touching Jazz's face. "But I am telling to back the hell off Raoul. He's not old enough. And you are pissing me off. Am I making myself clear, honey?"

Jazz laughed softly. "No. Because I'm about to lose my fucking mind the longer you pretend like you aren't attracted to him."

"I am not… attracted to Raoul," said Tracks in a tone that even he found unconvincing. "I am simply concerned for his well-being."

"But you also really, really want to fuck him. I mean, you've got it bad for Raoul. The bleed over's getting to the point I'm 'bout to act up if you don't move on it… Now quit acting like you aren't a bit… frustrated."

Tracks pressed even closer till he had Jazz almost on his back. "Well, maybe I might need some help that venting that frustration…"

"Aw, damn…" grumbled Jazz with a sad look as he double-checked the time. "We only got a joor before the others show up."

"Sounds like plenty of time to drag you to the supply closet for a quick bit of angry 'facing…"

Before Jazz could reply, there was an audible gagging from behind them.

"Oh fuckin' Primus!" barked Slingshot, retching loudly. "The old farts are gonna fuck…"

"Don't look, Sling," gasped Silverbolt as he tried desperately to cover his siblings' optics with the help of a stone-faced Skyfire.

Air Raid just shrugged, ducking his big brother's failing hand. "Eh. This is pretty damn tame…"

"Yeah," giggled Fireflight. "I mean, they don't have panels open or nothing."

Disentangling themselves, Jazz and Tracks both glared at a grinning Blaster.

"I thought you said you guys were gonna be late," grumbled Jazz as he snapped his visor back down.

"We had to press Skyfire into bus duty after chickenshit had another one of his freak-outs over Montana," rasped Powerglide as he came strutting into the muster room followed by Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.

Turning on the minibot with a growl, Silverbolt got up in his face. "Well, maybe if somebody wasn't riding my ass since we took off…"

"Oh! Look who's the tough guy now?" sneered Powerglide. "Hey, if you hate flyin' so much, then why don't you do Lightspeed a favor and switch bodies with him? I'd love to have a competent flier on the team for once!"

Before the Aerialbots could jump him, Skyfire hauled the minibot up by the neck so they were optic to optic. "I already warned you twice 'bout picking on the boy…"

"Put him down, Skyfire," said Prowl as he appeared out of nowhere like a ghostly ninja.

Skyfire obliged… by calmly dropping Powerglide on his aft.

"And fuck you too, you fucking reject 'con," hissed Powerglide as he scampered to the relative safety of Tracks' side. He promptly got a smack upside the head by the Corvette.

"You too, man?" said the minibot with a whimper.

"The poor boy has a phobia," replied Tracks. "If you want a better team, maybe you should try being supportive and quit antagonizing these boys. You know… Lead by example and act your age, PG."

"Says the mech who was 'bout to get down in the muster room…"

"You know," rasped Jazz with a forced smile as he put an arm around Powerglide's shoulder. "I thought you'd learn not to run that big mouth after that incident with Slag…"

The minibot's optic twitched. "Yeah… well… There's a whole fuckin' continent between me and him right now, ain't there?"

"Ain't one between you and me, is there?" purred Sunstreaker, coming up to them with a pleasant smile and a monowire blade in hand.

Prowl loudly cleared his vents. "Gentle-mechs? Can we postpone the Battle of the Overinflated Egos and get back to matters at hand?"

There were a few grumblings, but the assembled Autobots calmed down as they formed up around the console. Tracks did notice Sunstreaker hadn't put the blade away, but was now using it to clean up stray paint on his arm. The smile on the Lambo's face when he caught Tracks looking made it clear that he'd would have preferred to use it on Powerglide.

When they had settled in around the communications console and Blaster took his seat at the controls, Prowl stood in the middle and took out a datapad before he began speaking. "As I am sure you all are aware, there has been confirmed Decepticon activity in near Chicago. There has also been suspected activity in New York and New Jersey, such as the robbery of a car from Prince Jumal Hassan. His family formerly ruled the nation once known as the Kingdom of Art tal-Ġawhar, which had been a protectorate of Libya with connections to former Iranian royal family by his maternal great-grandfather, but now is called the-," Prowl let out a disapproving cough. "'Socialist Democratic Federated Republic of Carbombya'. A government that is not socialist, democratic, federated, or a republic nor actually viewed as having any legitimate authority by the majority of Earth's political powers. I am bringing this up as this current state affairs is connected to the topic at hand."

"You think that bastard Faghadi is involved?" asked Silverbolt.

"He is officially called 'Abdul Fakkadi'," said Prowl in a dry tone. "But yes, our intel has shown he is heavily involved. The Joes' confirmed that Fakkadi has allied with Cobra and is using their forces to further his own agendas in the Middle East as well as internationally. There has even been indications that he is currently harboring both the lunatic scientist Mindbender and Cobra Commander himself. It appears they are working on what Flint has referred to as a 'pet project'. Involving what appears to be a technique for converting human beings into fully mechanized beings without permanent damage to the subject's psyche."

Powerglide snorted. "So what? The squishies already knew how to make cyborgs. Sure, they're crude but it ain't a big deal."

"Boy, that ain't what they're doing. It's much, much worse," said Blaster as he cued up a video file.

"Passing judgments on the morality and ethics of this procedure is currently a bit… subjective all things considered," Prowl said, his tone professional. "All but one of the known subjects have been adults. They were fully aware of the risks and consented to the process with the exception of two subjects. The one was a corpse and the other was forced to accept the procedure against their will. We will discuss these exceptions shortly, but we need to explain the procedure before we go any further. First, the subject is-"

"Actually," interrupted Blaster, full screening the video. "It'll be easier show what happens."

With that, he hit play and revealed what looked like a grainy black and white security feed from a laboratory. The room itself had a disturbingly organic and mechanical look to it, as if built inside the body cavity of a techno-organic horror. In the center was a coffin like chamber, which looked like it'd grown out of the floor like a monstrous jawbone, connected to several computers alongside machinery that reminded Tracks of a laser core incubator and persona batch driver scaled down to human size. There was a stripped down B.A.T. hanging inside a modified synthiod production unit in one corner besides several tanks, one of which was filled a metallic fluid that moved on it's own accord. On the B.A.T.'s wrists were a pair of integrated cuffs that, while noticeable thicker than the rest of the skeleton, would be concealed just beneath the skin once the B.A.T. was coated with synthetic flesh.

"Date: March 19th, 1987," droned a severely distorted and deep voice that could only very loosely be called 'feminine' as a group of Cobra Troopers carried in a stretcher with a badly wounded boy on it flanked by Crimson Guards and Destro. "Subject's name is Silvester Felix Everhart. Age: 15. Gender: Male. Place of Birth: Dresden, Germany. Date of-"

"What are you waiting for?!" snapped one of the Guards, glaring up at the chamber's ceiling. "He's dying, you bastard!"

"James, I specifically said not to bring Victor," hissed the voice.

"I will remind you that you are to call me Destro," grumbled the masked man. "I would have done as you asked, but it upset the Baroness to see poor little Victor in such a state over his brother. She asked me to bring him along, and you know how I hate to see her unhappy."

"Well, seeing as it was the Baroness…" hummed the voice as naked, helmed female humanoid torso tethered with tubing and wires lowered to inspect the boy with thin, insect-like limbs. "He's been shot in the gut and they got him stabilized, so there's still time. There is at least one bullet still in there and it's in his spine, so there might be nerve damage. Hit several arteries and organs to, but we've learned the procedure can be done within a few hours of death in case he dies right now since the brain is intact and, thankfully, not been damaged by prolonged oxygen deprivation. We do have his basic info on file, right?"

"When Everhart joined up and went into the Crimson Guard, we made sure that all his vital information was taken." Destro smiled coldly. "As well as that of his sole living relative. So yes, we do have all that on file for his younger brother, just in case he ever had reservations about his choice of vocation."

"My loyalty is unimpeachable," hissed Victor, hovering over his brother protectively.

The humanoid just sighed as a strong draft went through the room, turning it's blank helmet face to Destro. "Was Silvester debriefed as to the nature of the procedure?"
"Yes."

"And did he freely consent to conversion or did you browbeat him into accepting so Mars Co. can have a giant death machine of their own?"
Destro glared at the humanoid. "The boy gave his consent of his own volition before he lapsed into a coma. He was willing and very eager even after I explained precisely what your damn procedure would do to his body, mind, and soul."

"Fair enough," grumbled the humanoid as it leaned back over the chamber. "You can place him inside now so we can begin."

"I'm actually shocked you even consented to this, doctor," Destro said as he gestured for the troopers to put the boy into the chamber. "This boy might survive his wounds, you know. Maybe left a cripple, but he'd probably live."

The humanoid just snorted that seemed far too loud for their size as the screen briefly rattled as it hit with air. "You've been on enough battlefields to see that, even if we got the best surgeons in the world, these wounds will kill this kid sooner or later. There's a septic infection setting in, probably from having his intestines proliferated and not getting it properly cleaned up. Didn't think the Joes' medics were that sloppy. Though I have to admit that they have always been much better at shooting first and asking questions never."

Destro shrugged as he watched the torso thing being hooking various tubes and wires into the boy's body. "Silvester pulled a stupid stunt by taking Cover Girl hostage trying to rescue big brother here. It was good enough to buy us time to escape, but he really brought it on himself trying to bluff Duke and Lady Jane by assuming they wouldn't be willing to risk a comrade to take him down. I guess he didn't count on them being such good shots. Or that pistol he snatched off my desk was actually just a cigarette lighter. He took a risk and he lost." He angrily rounded on Victor, pulling a pistol on the other man, who'd already had a knife in hand. "Then you almost jeopardized my whole operation in Berlin by breaking into that army hospital to bring him here. And to top it all off, you put the Baroness in danger by talking her into assisting you in a suicide mission. If it wasn't for me, you and that idiot brother of yours would be laying in a morgue by now." Destro shifted suddenly, pointing the gun at the unconscious boy. "Honestly, I have half a mind to put the boy out his misery right now and spare him the Hell…"

Victor lunged for him, but was stopped short by the other Crimson Guards.

"Calm down," grumbled the humanoid, continuing to attach various wires and IVs to the unconscious boy as another, larger insect limb appeared and smacked Destro upside the head as it took the pistol out of his hand. "Stop being a dick, James. And Victor? Picking a fight right now won't undo your dear Buster catching a severe case of acute lead poisoning. And a couple of crossbow bolts." The humanoid pulled out a mangled piece of metal. "Damn. That went deep… Though we appreciate knowing more about just what you have laid before us upon the altar of this, our prison temple." The humanoid's voice distorted further as it deepened, echoing and taking on a sound as if a billions of other voices were speaking with it. Then they lapsed back to the female tone, turning to Victor. "Don't worry. Your beloved Silvester can be saved. In fact, I would view this as an upgrade! The procedure will give him many benefits… such as a greatly improved tolerance to small arms fire for starters."

Victor glared. "How can you be certain he'll be the same person?"

"He has a point, Zodiac," said Destro. "All you have proven to us is that you've improved the synthoids and create a 'transformer'. And, while I must admit the concept is intriguing, I'd hardly say that your current results have inspired much confidence. Painkiller and Bushwhacker have proven to be useful additions to our ranks. But Shooter is a neurotic coward that spends most of it's downtime catatonic or drunk… Never knew those things could even get drunk… And then we have the utter nightmare that is Firefly."

"That only went south because none of you told me he was already dead until after I gone ahead and converted him. Seriously, I warned you that the dead couldn't be converted without side-effects." The humanoid double-checked the incubator, making a few small adjusts before they withdrew. "And in my defense, he was a psycho well before that. You can't blame the procedure for that and I have to point out that other than that little hiccup, it yielded positive results. Firefly turned out to be exactly what the Commander had asked for…"

"But now we have a very angry homicidal maniac in the body of a giant robot capable of turning into an attack helicopter. With a flame-thrower. Who happens to be a highly trained explosives expert. As well as a master ninja. Nothing that large should be able to creep around the way he does. We still haven't figured out a way to keep Firefly controlled outside of starving him of fuel until he shuts down." Destro frowned up at the humanoid. "Forgive me if I've not yet been convinced as to the safety or practicality of this whole experiment."

"Well, that's going to happen if you give me fucking lunatics to work with!" snapped the humanoid. "Though I doubt this will end as badly, given little Buster here is a pretty emotionally stable and surprisingly well adjusted given his history. The Angolmois fluid transfusion responds more favorably to those who want to be converted. And I am not being forced by the Commander to turn him into a giant death machine. So kindly kiss the filthiest part of whatever remains of my ass, Jimmy boy."

Destro smiled and took hold of Victor's arm. "And a good go fuck yourself too, Elise. Now let's get on with this."

"Nein!" snapped Victor, jerking away as Destro attempted to follow after the others. "I am staying with my brother."

"That would be a very bad idea," Destro said softly. "One of the procedure's side effects is producing a small scale nuclear blast. If you're lucky, you'll die from the shock wave rupturing your organs first. But if you wish to risk spending the last few moments of your life with horrific radiation sickness, be my guest."

"Actually, given the intense heat, your brain would explode long before the implosion to pretty green glowy gem phase," hummed the humanoid with the voice of legions as they petted his head. "But worry not, for you shall join him at our side as something greater than you are now. This we have foreseen, Hydra… Now please leave us to our work."

As they watched Destro escorted Victor out, Sunstreaker yawned loudly. "Oh, how fun! A blooper reel of Cobra doing stupid shit."

Prowl glared at him. "You need to pay more attention, Sunstreaker."

While the humanoid on screen began their preparatory work, Tracks stared in horror at the scene as he realized what was happening. "Primus. They can create protoforms…"

"That can't be a breeder station," said Powerglide. "I mean, the humans don't even know about protoforms! They can't have built a viable hot spot replicator."

"Looks like they did," rumbled Skyfire as he studied the footage intensely as the entity began prepping to initialize. "That is definitely a sprog spawner. They've even got birth metal to construct the kid's new body. The method appears to be cold construction given the use of a pre-fab body, but some of the equipment is used for only forged protoforms. The process appears to be built on Mesothulas' research into creating artificial life. The entity might even be Mesthulas, but that's doubtful as they have some empathy for their subjects. Overall, this is a fascinating experiment though I find it hard to believe they can actually compress a spark enough to fit the tiny frame without compromising laser core stability. They might be using mass shunting like with Pretenders or have it scaled for a minibot. Maybe it'll show—"

Sideswipe crossed the room and cut the video off before the process started. He turned, gaping in horror at Skyfire. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What? I'm trying to figure out how human technology can be used-"

"This. Is. Blasphemy!" snapped the red Lamborghini.

Skyfire rolled his optics. "Oh, joy. Just what I need today: some 'bot whinging over the 'sanctity of the Allspark' and how 'Primus is a god' and all that other nonsense."

Sideswipe glared at him. "You're blaspheming. I don't have to work with a blasphemer."

"Actually, you do," grumbled Jazz. "And you ain't got no place to bitch about him being a blasphemer when you two heathens ain't been to church since the war started!"

"Yeah, well… In mine and Sunny's defense, the only active chaplain we've got is Ultra Magnus. And he's one of those hellfire and brimstone Orthodox priest. The scary Traditionalist kind. The kind that is really keen on using a big old hammer to beat the love of Primus into sinners. Sunny and I are both happy sticking with the Reformed sect, thanks. At a lot less wear and tear on the old joints and cranium, if you get me."

Blaster cleared his vents. "Yo, I've been holding services twice every Earth standard week (circumstances permitting). Or did you forget I'm still an ordained minister? Of the Reformed sect, no less. Your little backsliding ass ain't got an excuse now."

"I'm actually surprised, Blaster," hummed Skyfire. "You seem to be taking the idea of humans creating protoforms rather well, for a religious mech."

"I'm more disturbed they're using other humans to make them."

"And they violated the Treaty of Mиp, as the technology being used is not of Earth," said Prowl in a casual monotone. "The chamber design implies it was made with a combination of Cybertronian and Nebulan materials. Maybe even Quintesson technology, judging from the appearance and speech patterns of the entity. The parts were even grown from terrestrial coral based off the samples Lady Jane gave us. By the way, that lab you just saw was apparently destroyed after the Joes raided the base a few months ago. But, seeing as there continue to be incidents of humans going missing and turning up as mechs along with sightings of the entity, which goes by the designation of 'Dr. Z' or 'Devil Zodiac', we have reached the conclusion that either Cobra has multiple stations or the device itself is mobile. And possibly even an alt mode if the other evidence we've recovered is accurate."

"So Cobra is allied with something that's a mobile protoform generator that may be a fuckin' Quint," said Jazz coldly. "And how long–"

"We only confirmed Zodiac's existence after the Joes' raid."

"Confirmed?" asked Skyfire. "This implies there have been others before this. And those were the ones Destro named, right?"

Prowl nodded. "Firefly and both the Everhart brothers are only the most recent. The one identified as Victor was wounded during the Joes' assault on the lab, with his injuries being severe enough that he became the next 'test subject'. Prior to these three, we had a report the 'late' Lord Chumly and his butler were approached by Dr. Z to take part in an experiment in 1985. Both were believed to have died in a fire that occurred during the experiment, but no bodies were recovered. There was an intensive investigation into Dr. Z and their company to determine whether or not this was an arson and murder. The civil authorities cleared the doctor and they moved operations to the US in 1986, putting out requests for 'volunteers' in the Chicago and Detroit areas."

"It was in Detroit that the Joes got involved…" said Jazz. "That's when they noticed the Dreadnoks were active in the area and found that one of them had directly supplied a 'volunteer'. But I wasn't able to get more details about it."

"But I have," said Prowl, checking his datapad. "This was when a Dr. Susan Hoffman was checked in as a volunteer by her ex-husband after a diagnosis of terminal cancer. In the papers found after the fact was a series of journals and recordings being kept by the doctor documenting her experiences with Dr. Z and the indoctrination process prior to being 'converted'. Dr. Hoffman stated she'd been approached by 'Dick' and offered a way to prolong her life. In her own words, she accepted more out of desperation after being, quote, 'written off as dead' by her doctors. She was initially hostile towards Dr. Z, believing the whole situation to be a set up for a con man and/or a cult given the terminology Dr. Z and their assistants, referred to as 'Mega' and 'Giga', used to discuss the procedure. She talked about how the indoctrination process was referred to as 'transitional stages', which Dr. Z took pains to explain as necessary to prepare one for 'conversion'."

He paused to send a graphic of the stages on the screen. "The very first stage Dr. Z called the 'Kairos', when a subject was suffering an existential or emotional crisis. It's clear that this point is when the subject will be most receptive to Dr. Z's 'sales pitch' and desperate for any kind of aid. The second to fourth stages are breaking down the subject's will while making them loyal to the doctor and convincing them to undergo the procedure. It all seems to follow somewhat standard cult recruitment tactics, but I'm afraid details about the next stages are a bit… vague with the only clear outcome being the conversion of the human subject into a protoform. We're not sure if they are then forged into a full mech or the piloting component for a transactor. I suggest we keep in mind that towards the end, Dr. Hoffman had become more sympathetic to the doctor and likely fell under their sway. She may have even altered her journals later to lure in more recruits or protect Dr. Z."

"So all her data is compromised?" asked Skyfire.

"Unfortunately, yes." Prowl's voice stayed level but now a hint of anger crept in. "That said, Dr. Hoffman's final diaries and audio recordings are currently the most detailed description of what's going on at Dr. Z's labs as Hoffman had free access to almost the entire site. By the end, Dr. Hoffman appears to have joined Dr. Z as a protege or, perhaps more accurately, another disciple, but this is all conjecture since that Flint has withheld nearly all of Dr. Hoffman's final diaries as a 'matter of national security'. But what few snippets he has been willing to share is… disturbing, to say the least. Dr. Hoffman has made it clear that the process is very destructive and produces large amounts of heat. Which is apparent in the video since that was basically all that got record as the camera that the Joes' had planted in there was destroyed shortly after the process initialized. Given what was shown, a nuclear reaction is being used to catalyze a spark but we have yet to figure out how this is done nor how the spark is grafted into a laser core. I do wish to point out that the spark crystal is 'green', which both Hoffman and the video mention."

"Now that is interesting," Skyfire said softly. "Do you think they've figured out how to artificially create one-point-one percenters?"

"We have nothing to confirm or deny that," replied Prowl. "It's possible, but not likely. The coloration might just be a byproduct of using a carbonized human corpse to create a crystal matrix. It might even just be the process itself produces a green light but the spark itself is a standard color like blue or blue-white."

Tracks spoke up. "You were talking about how this Dr. Z was recruiting using cult like tactics. Can you elaborate further or is that another conjecture?"

"No," said Prowl. "Even Flint was clear that Dr. Z's little experiment is relying heavily on cult like practices and manipulation. Dr. Hoffman's statements made it very clear that Dr. Z had not called their process a 'cure', but insisted on referring to it as a 'conversion'. Mega and Giga also spoke about it in religious terms, frequently telling Hoffman Dr. Z was their 'savior' who 'resurrected' them. Hoffman strongly hints that statement was not just metaphorical. She also made sure to state Dr. Z kept asking her if she was certain she wished to continue and claimed she could leave at any time. Apparently, the goal of each stage is to give the subject a chance to back out, but it's unclear if this is a genuine choice or just the illusion of one. Dr. Z even tried to personally talk her out of undertaking the final stages, but I conjecture that Dr. Hoffman had already decided to see it out to the end judging by the statements she left behind. As with Chumly, the lab was latter destroyed in what's suspected to be an arson but rules as the result of 'defective wiring' and Dr. Hoffman has been presumed dead."

"Hold up. Presumed dead?" Jazz gave him a look. "According to Lady Jane, there's signs that Dr. Hoffman not only is still alive, but working for Cobra now."

"That is still… unproven. The official reports have it that Dr. Hoffman apparently died during the fire. And whatever the lady told you, Jazz, is considered to be off the record," grumbled Prowl. "Until we have full access to the information the Joes have, we cannot verify such assumptions and must presume the official reports are correct."

Sideswipe growled softly in frustration. "Really? We just saw that the squishies are blaspheming and making protoforms. They're openly violating the treaty! Why can't we force them to hand over the shit and find out how the fuck they're doing it? Surely you, Prowl, of all mechs, want to see justice for this egregious breech of galactic law!"

"Proving a true breech of the treaty requires evidence that the species didn't develop the technology independently. Dr. Z, the apparatus and the entity might have been created solely by the humans after all." Before Sideswipe could say anything, Prowl raised a hand and said coldly, "Approximately five Earth standard months ago, we were able to get to the site in Chicago shortly after it been destroyed in a fire. We recovered evidence from the site that shows much, if not all, the technologies being used by Dr. Z can be found on Earth. Given the nature of the equipment we recovered before the 'proper' authorities arrived, it appears that much of the basic process is similar to that used to create the original Nightbird prototype."

"So what happened there? I am presuming that, since there was a fire, so there must be another 'volunteer' killed. That is the pattern, isn't it?" Skyfire asked, taking notes on a datapad.

"Yes. But there were no volunteers this time. The fire occurred at a site that was being prepared as a clinic but never opened. This time, a man going by the name 'Joey Slick' accepted a job as a nightwatchman for the site. He was last seen leaving his apartment for his first day of work, the same night the arson took place. He was reported missing by his landlady three days after that location burned down, again ruled as an arson by unknown parties. Mister Slick has not been seen since and is presumed to have died in the fire."

"So what's the connection?" Skyfire asked, making more notes. "I'm presuming that it's the fact that each victim has had previous contact with Cybertronians. Chumly was targeted due to hunting Optimus, Dr. Hoffman due to her prior misadventures with the Triggerbots…"

"Then where does this Slick guy come in?" snapped Sunstreaker. "Never heard of him before. And those two Cobra kids don't seem to have been involved with us, either."

Prowl sighed. "Actually, after some research, I learned this Slick gained possession of Megatron himself while the latter was mode-locked and suffering damage to his cognitive circuits. He proceeded to use his Glorious Lord Protector to go on a crime spree before Megatron got his slag together. Oddly, he left Slick alive for reasons unknown which lead to the human's capture and imprisonment. Details are sketchy, but apparently Slick had been unaware his 'magic gun' was a robot."

"Doesn't explain those boys, Prowl."

"Likely, it was an opportunistic decision," said Skyfire, jotting down yet more notes. "The footage shows that the entity was willing to take advantage of the elder sibling's desperation to save his younger sibling to convert the boy. This also holds true as the elder sibling was wounded later and likewise converted."

"But this assumes the conversions were successful," Powerglide grumbled. "I mean, we've got no proof that any of these procedures resulted in anything more than a fire and a pile of human ashes! There's even an admission of a major failure by Cobra themselves!"

"Said 'failure' has recently been sighted in the ranks of the Decepticons," Prowl said in a drone. "The being called 'Firefly' has been seen at the Chicago and Detroit sites disguised as helicopter 'air-ambulance' for Dr. Z's clinic to transport personnel and patients/volunteers. There's evidence that Firefly might actually be the reason for the fires instead of them being a side-effect of the process."

Sideswipe laughed, his tone nasty and annoyed. "How? You're seriously expecting us to believe a full-sized mech can pull off burning down multiple human scale buildings and nobody's noticed it?!"

"Because he's not a full-sized mech," Silverbolt said quietly. "Didn't you notice it? The procedure doesn't make a standard mech, but instead creates a human-sized mech using Cobra's robots and synthiod technologies to make the body."

"Then how in the Pit are they able to compress a spark that much, smartass?!" Sideswipe growled back.

"Actually, it wouldn't be too difficult," muttered Skyfire as he made more notes. "Like I said earlier, it's very likely they're using a process similar to that used to make Pretenders or minibots. Sparks are basically an energy field attuned to a resonating crystal. The crystal matrix itself doesn't need to be very large at all and as long as the laser core can support the necessary power required to maintain the resonance, there's really nothing preventing the creation of human-scale transformers. We only need to look to the existence of the micro-bots such as Scalpel for an example."

"Yeah, but most of those are just tools," Sunstreaker said with a bored yawn as Powerglide glared angrily at him.

"And we all know mass productions tend to be the worst of the worst in every way," hissed Powerglide, still bristling. "Like the big, dumb, ugly Lambo types, for example…"

Sunstreaker moved to lunge for the minibot, but Sideswipe stopped him. "Seriously? You got to be talking that slag?! You forget about Moony all of a sudden? Remember? Our baby sister? Who still dating your ass?"

Powerglide snorted. "Fuck you, man! Moony's not a mass production model! She's a custom build. All femmes are!"

"My twin and I were production models," Tracks said flatly. "So was our little brother…"

"You both were prototypes," Powerglide grumbled back. "That doesn't count! And Needlenose is a fucking psychopath like most Seeker types…"

Before an argument could ensue, Fireflight excitedly raised both hands and waved them around to get their attention. "Hey! Hey! Hey, uh, I got a question!"

"Permission to speak granted," said Prowl in the same monotone he'd been using since the briefing began.

"Okay! So, like these humans are converting other humans into protoforms, right?" the Aerialbot said, with expressive hand gestures. "Then they're making them into like super, super small robots, right? Like, squishy sized?"

"Yes. That seems to be what's happening."

"Okay, okay! But the metal head guy was talking about how one of those converted people called Firefly was now, like, a normal sized mech and stuff. Right?"

"Yes."

"And you were implying that guy was like also the one actually burning down all those labs, right?"

"Again, yes."

"Okay, so, like if a normal mech was doing this stuff, then the humans would have like totally noticed that the fires were weren't normal," said Fireflight with a solemn certainty. "Cause, like, it's suuuuuper hard and stuff to burn down a human scale building and not be noticed or get mistaken for a human."

"Talking like you done this before, Flight?" sniped Slingshot.

"You remember when the Joes let us borrow one of their training bases?" said Fireflight. "Well, that nice Covergirl asked me to show her my guns. So, I did like, cause she's hot for a human, and… yeah. It's like so hard to blow up a building with a missile and not have it look like you totes blew up a building with a missile."

Skydive stepped forward with a sigh. "I think what my brother is trying to say is that if this Firefly has been causing the fires, then it would be obvious they weren't accidental or done by a human."

"Perhaps," said Silverbolt in a quiet tone. "The 'mech' isn't the main body but a transactor. It's what most of the evidence seems to be showing and would explain why the humans that are converted appear to be put into a human scale body."

"Yeah, but…" grumbled Slingshot. "But don't the 'cons already know how make transactors and make a squishy capable of piloting it. I mean, they've only used Nebulans like we did as far as we know, but it might be possible. Sounds like they're adding unnecessary extra steps here…"

"Unless there's a benefit to the procedure itself. That it might mass produce one-point-one percenters is a disturbing thought but may be exactly what the Decepticons wanted," Skyfire said softly, adding to his notes. "Prowl, has there been any evidence about what's happened to the converted humans? Are they simply being put into an inorganic body or does the change give them something more? I recall the entity, whom I presume is Dr. Z, included in their 'sales pitch' that the process would be an 'upgrade' for Victor's brother. Is it possible they've learned how to give humans gimmicks or integrated special weapons?"

"Well, we've always been able to do that with organic lifeforms. And there are documented cases of humans developing such powers on their own either by birth, spontaneous changes, or deliberate argumentation," Prowl's expression remained as flat as his tone. "But I presuming you mean that the Decepticons and/or Cobra have learned how to do so safely enough to make them viable for agents, correct?"

"Yes."

There was a pause, then Prowl just shrugged with a sigh. "I am afraid we don't know. The Joes are withholding much of the evidence they've gathered as a 'matter of state security', but I noticed in my conversation with Duke that he was rather… upset about certain implications the procedure and it's results made about humanity itself."

Skyfire frowned. "I'm going to hazard a guess and say the reluctance to share information is less a concern for 'security' and more about some outdated belief in the 'sanctity of the soul' or some such thing."

"Even the humans know this is messed up!" barked Sideswipe.

"Given it was a sensitive topic, I didn't press the issue," Prowl said as if he hadn't heard the Lambo's outburst. "Suffices to say that, yes, there are some… cultural issues that lead to Flint's decision to withhold certain information. But what they did share with us does indeed support the idea that Cobra, with or without the direct support of the Decepticons, are creating some kind of master-transactor robots likely based on Cobra's existing vehicles."

Jazz gave the Datsun a dirty look. "Yo, I'm noticing a lot of 'and/or' and other weasel words getting used when you mention the 'cons working with Cobra."

"Because we have no clear proof they are actually working together."

"So what about the Bosta heist and all those raids on companies own by Blackrock and Fujiyama?" Jazz growled. "We know the 'cons have worked with Cobra before, so it's not a stretch to thing they're doing so again. And Chumly, his butler, Dr. Hoffman, and this Slick guy are all linked by having been involved with Cybertronians in some way before. And, as Prowl pointed out, Dr. Z probably took advantage of the opportunity to have some fresh 'volunteers', which is how those two kids and Firefly got 'converted'. It's pretty likely Mega and Giga also underwent the process given how they talk about the doctor. They seemed to make a big deal about the state their victim was in prior to the procedure, which implies they prefer living victims because apparently being dead messes it up…"

"That is not exactly correct, Jazz," Prowl said quietly. "But now is not the time to get bogged down in conjectures. The reason I showed you all this clip and brought the subject up is that Dr. Z has once again set up a clinic and looking for volunteers."

"Where?" asked Jazz.

"New York City," said Tracks with frustration. "That's why you all came up here. And that was why the 'cons have been lurking around here for over an Earth standard year, isn't it?"

Prowl simply nodded, his voice staying calm. "Yes. We confirmed that the Decepticons have established a base near the city but we have not located it yet. There is a Cobra nest as well and they are working together to acquire 'volunteers' for Dr. Z's experiments."

"And that's why Buzzsaw attacked Raoul." Tracks' voice was level but there was a mounting anger that he couldn't hide. "They were trying to create a 'crisis' situation that would make the boy more vulnerable to their 'conversion', correct?"

"Yes. That appears to be exactly what they're doing," droned Prowl calmly. "It is a simple yet ingenious process: Target a human involved with us, preferably one who is or was an ally, exploit a per-existing crisis or create one, approach the victim with the offer of a solution to the crisis, indoctrinate and convert them into Decepticon soldiers. If only we could get a spy inside Dr. Z clinic…"

"No," snapped Tracks in quiet rage as he started for Prowl. "I'll be damned if I let you send my Raoul on a suicide mission!"

Jazz held him back, but was just as furious as he spoke. "Yo! Are you serious?!"

"Actually," Prowl said, still calm despite the death glare he got from Blaster. "It's just as likely for them to approach Prince Jumal or Astoria Carlton-Ritz or Dr. Newell as to choose Raoul. All of them have recently suffered a crisis situation. Take for example Jumal who was attacked and maimed in an assassination attempt…"

"And you made us back off because it was Cobra who did it, not the 'cons," growled Silverbolt. "Because it was 'not our place' to interfere in 'human affairs'…"

"I also made it very clear that the Joes' were involved and Flint had 'politely' requested we stay out of it," replied Prowl, tone flat and cold. "As they are willing to aid us, I feel there is no need to jeopardize our alliance with their faction at the time. Now, getting back on track, after Raoul and Jumal, we have Astoria, who's parents are having a messy divorce due to many issues including allegations of mutual adulteries and abuse, details of which are fodder for the tabloids. That Ramirez guy's has even been doing a series on the whole sordid affair…"

"Hey," barked Powerglide, vents rattling hotly. "You could've just said her folks are getting divorced, asshole! The poor kid's got it rough enough without you airing her family's dirty laundry! The bullshit those fuckers from the press put into print already have her in tears. I ain't going to let you talk about Astoria like this, prick!"

"Oh really?" Sideswipe asked suddenly. "So this Astoria you've been talking about all the time and are really close is a human female?"

"And why's the a big deal?" the minibot snapped back.

Sideswipe gave him a weirdly pleasant smile. "Well, it's just that you never really use gendered language talking about her…"

"Oh, and you're mostly heterosexual," said Sunstreaker as he played with his knife. "And you talk to Astoria like you do to our sister…"

"You know, your girlfriend?" added Sideswipe. "The one you left back on Cybertron?"

Powerglide laughed angrily. "Oh, for Primus' sake… Astoria's a human, you stupid bastards! I might be a minibot, but my spike's still too big for that!"

"But you got that holoform generator installed right before we left…" Sunstreaker's smile was friendly but his tone was murderous. "And I'm sure your buddy Tracks told you how to—"

"Or maybe you just got Flight drunk and asked him," grumbled Sideswipe. "The dumbaft got a holoform just as soon as Jack got the kinks out. And there's that disgusting collection of 'squishy' porn he's been hoarding…"

"Dude!" snapped Sunstreaker, glaring at his twin sadly. "Not cool…"

With an extremely loud clearing of his vents, Prowl cut the argument short. "Gentle-mechs? As interesting as it would be discuss the intricacies of sexual relations between a mech and a human, I'm afraid it's not pertinent to the topic at hand."

"Actually, I'd say it is," said Sideswipe in frustration making a wide sweeping gesture towards Tracks, Powerglide, the Aerialbots and Skyfire. "Because the 'cons are coming after humans that are close to us and what better choice than to pick the lover of one these xenophiliacs' to make canon fodder! I mean, all of them have fucked a human at some point! And I mean that in the nicest way possible, 'cause I understand. Some of them would be smoking hot if they weren't so organic and squishable. Take Raoul, for example. He would definitely make for an attractive mech and I like the guy's attitude and that he talks like he's got heavy Vos accent. Primus knows how I get about Vos guys…"

The glare Tracks gave him made the smile vanish from Sideswipe's face. "Thank you so much for that. I'm sure we all were just dying to know that about you Sideswipe. Explains why you sent an underage boy pornography, you bastard…"

"And why are you also including me in that statement?" asked Skyfire softly, stepping in between him and the Corvette. "Because, while Newell is a geologist, I doubt she's interested in that kind of spelunking…"

"Actually," rumbled a low voice as Ultra Magnus entered the room, taking a seat beside Prowl. "She happens to be a friend of mine. And that our relationship is strictly platonic even without considering the physical impossibilities. And I am sorry I'm late."

"Actually," grumbled Silverbolt as he checked the time. "We were going to be starting right now…"

"I was not aware the time of the meeting had been changed," said Ultra Magnus, shooting Prowl a dirty look. "I had been here over a joor ago but traffic in this city is incredibly unorganized and inefficient. I must have encountered every toll both from here to Seattle…"

"And every damn pothole, too! I told you we should have used the tunnel network," said Chromedome as limped in, then noticed Tracks and Blaster. "Oh… uh, hello! I forgot you both would be here…"

"Prowl," Blaster said quietly, still glaring at the mnemosurgeon. "I thought we had a talk about Rewind not being any where near this creep…"

"Excuse me! I am a surgeon, not a creep!" Chromedome snapped. "He asked for an operation to see if his nightmares were linked to an old trauma. I made sure that Rewind gave full and informed consent before I—"

"He is a child, you sick bastard!" Tracks snarled back. "He can't consent to such things."

Chromedome glared back at him. "Oh! So I'm a bastard for giving a patient a therapeutic mnemosurgery at their request, but it's perfectly acceptable for some of us to have a sexual affair with an underage alien thug who's already a 'con in the making?! Yeah… I don't think so!"

Tracks smiled as he went over to Chromedome and hugged him close as he leaned into his audial port in a sharp whisper. "Listen here you fucking piece of garbage: If you ever speak about Raoul like that again, I will cut them off and force-feed them to you."

"Did you just threaten to castrate me?" Chromedome asked bluntly, pulling away in confusion.

"Actually, I meant your hands," said Tracks, still smiling sweetly. "The castration and other mutilations should be a given."

"Oh, you want a fight? Cause we can go right now!"

"Gentle mechs!" boomed Ultra Magnus, stepping between them. "This is a war room! There's no fighting in here."

"Yeah!" chirped Flight suddenly. "At least wait till we can get a huge tub of oil for you to get in and settle your differences!"

Crossing his legs with a hard 'clang!', Prowl's face flashed brightly as he cleared his vents. "I think we should save any personal grievances till after we have dealt with the problem at hand. Now, Ultra Magnus, do you or Chromedome need a recap of the situation?"

"Blaster set up an audio-cast for me to listen in," Ultra Magnus said. "And we were both there when you debriefed the Pretenders, Prowl."

"Pretenders?" asked Jazz. "You didn't mention you were bringing those guys along."

"It was at my request, Lieutenant," said Ultra Magnus. "As we are concerning ourselves with the protection of humans, I believe it would be best to utilize agents who not only are the same scale as a human, but also have had extensive interactions with humanity."

Jazz frowned. "You brought Metalhawk, didn't you?"

"He's literally been on this planet since humans evolved," Prowl said flatly. "And given how little contact Hi-Q and the other Nebulans have had with humans, I felt it would be best to have someone more… human to help smooth things over. Metalhawk's already debriefed them about what needs to be done so he personally see Raoul, as he was the one who the 'Cons appear to be focusing on. He's already heading to the apartment with Hotwire and Joyride. They've been delayed by traffic but should be there soon, which is good as I'm worried Arcana might try to vivisect the boy if they're left alone too long…"

"Are you're telling us Brainstorm's here?!" snapped Skyfire.

"Yes. He is a Headmaster, after all." Prowl kept his tone calm at the sudden outbursts of shock and horror. Only Chromedome seemed unsurprised by that news, but clearly was not happy about it.

"You're let that lunatic roam free on this planet?!" barked Jazz. "You tryin' to get Earth blown up or something?!"

Prowl started to explain himself, but Tracks didn't catch it as he quietly slipped out and was soon speeding down the road.

"You could've waited to be dismissed, solider", said Ultra Magnus over the radio.

"The court-martial me," he snapped back. "I'll be damned if I leave the boy alone with that lunatic and Arcana."

"Actually, this was exactly what your orders where to be," Ultra Magnus grumbled. "You're to continue guarding Raoul in shifts with Metalhawk, Chromedome and Stylor. And, before you argue, let me point out that this is to allow you time to actually do things like 'recharge' and have maintenance done without leaving the boy unguarded. Brainstorm and Arcana will be there to assess and monitor the boy's condition as we have reason to suspect the Decepticons might have dosed him with a targeted nanovirus either during or after the attack. I expect you to remain professional about this, is that clear solider?"

"Yes, sir. Anything else?"

"Not at this time. Signing off."

As soon as Ultra Magnus had disconnected, Tracks hissed a few choice words about the commander and continued on into the evening traffic.

"…this has to be one of the most disturbing things I've every witnessed," Rewind said as the credits rolled.

"Yeah," muttered Raoul, finishing off the last of the lasagna and feeling the buzz finally kicking in from one those weird pills Lenny gave him that he'd sneaked in with the rest of his medication as soon as Tracks left. "It is kind of fucked up, but not as much as the book was cause they cut a lot of things. Like when the main girl let her friends run a train on her the first time they fought the monster."

"Run a…" Rewind spaced out a bit, then blinked in shock. "Oh. Ooh… That's disturbing. Weren't they all well below maturity at the time?"

"Yeah, well, it was supposed to be a solidarity thing," Raoul said putting the pan on the coffee table as he stretched out on the couch beside the robot, who'd given up on using the holo-form. "Besides, that's actually not the worst King novel. The worst in my opinion was Cujo, which ended with that poor dog and that poor kid dying. At least the movie version let the kid live, but man… Killing the dog hurt like hell."

"Then why would you read such things?" asked Rewind.

"My abuela made me a deal: I could watch whatever the hell I'd like, as long as it was based on a book and I read it first." Raoul grinned, patting Rewind on the shoulder. "And my uncle's a big fan of horror, fantasy, and scifi, so I got to read stuff like King and Moorcock. Even like Lovecraft, even if he's racist as fuck and I had to break both the dictionary and a thesaurus just to figure out what he was saying. But I learned a bunch of new words for it, so that's got to count for something. Honestly, my abuela didn't care even if I was reading Uncle Mitch's Conan comics and Heavy Metal mags, just as long as there were words in them."

Rewind nodded. "Yeah. Any opportunity for a learning experience is a good one. I'm sure your teachers must've been pleased."

"Oh-ho-ho! Let me tell you about the 'learning experience' I had with my teachers over my choice in literature," chuckled Raoul with a nastier smile as felt that dam of emotion he'd kept locked up inside crack open. He knew even in his increasingly stoned state that he had to share all of it with someone before it drowned him. "See, my abuela and uncle were constantly getting called up talk with the principal about the 'inappropriate subject matter' of whatever I was reading. Started with me getting detention for getting busted reading Conan stories at lunch because it promoted 'Satanism' and they were 'above my age' anyway. Then I got dragged into the office again for reading Poe in class, even though it was in the fucking text book! They even got mad when I brought in one of the Wizard of Oz books because it was 'above my reading level'. And then came sixth grade when Mister Gardener had us doing book reports on stories about New York, so I decided to do 'The Horror at Red Hook'. Wound up on a three week suspension that ended with the wicked bitch of the West dragging me to California to 'save my soul'. And that's also the last fucking time I ever bothered applying myself to in school outside of French class. But that's just cause chicks dig a guy that knows French and cussing in it is like wiping your ass with pure silk."

Rewind stared at him a moment. "Okay. Let me see if I heard you correctly: you were reading at what sounds like an advanced level but instead of being encouraged, you were repeated punished for it by your teachers. To the point were you were taken out of school and removed to the custody of your father over it. That is what you're saying, right?"

"There were a few other things going on with the custody shit," Raoul said, fishing out a joint and lighting up. "But yeah. That's why I keep ditching school, too. It's fucking pointless to stick with that shit since everybody's written me off as just another stupid punk."

"But you're not," said Rewind. "In fact, your a very curious and intelligent young man. And I've noticed that you still are an avid reader, if oddly secretive about it. I understand you've had bad experiences in the past but…"

"Hey, I've got an image, man!" gasped Raoul as he sat up suddenly. "I don't want nobody to think I'm some kind of geeky bookworm."

"And why is that a problem? I know plenty of guys who are 'geeky' and competent soldiers, like Wheeljack and Perceptor… Hell, I'm one of those guys!"

"Yeah, but you're an alien robot, Rewind. Here on Earth, homeboys like me ain't supposed to be 'book smart'. They don't expect me to amount to anything because I ain't a white boy. I might not be black, but I fail the paper bag test even in the dead of winter, so I can't lie and pass my ass off as the 'right' kind of Puerto Rican."

"Paper bag test?" asked Rewind. "What is that?"

"It's… you know, maybe it'd be easier to show you…" Raoul got up, limped to the wastebasket and dug out a scrap from a shopping bag. He sat back down. "See this piece of paper? Notice the color?"

"Yes. It's a light tan."

"Right. Now, look at this." Raoul held the paper next to his face. "Notice how much darker I am compared to the paper?"

"Yes, you are are darker," said Rewind, still confused. "But I'm not sure why this is important."

"It means I'm worth less than this fucking paper, Rewind," said Raoul as he crumbled the paper up and tossed it away. He sighed out a cloud of pungent smoked as he leaned against Rewind. "See, I'm Puerto Rican but I'm not the 'good' kind. I'm too dark and I don't have the 'good' hair… I've got big mouth, a 'bad attitude', and a criminal record. And, just between you and me, I'm not exactly straight, either. All that just ain't the kind of thing schools or anybody else wants to have representing them. So they pass guys like me over in favor of the pretty white kids or the 'inspirational' minorities who are either high color or are willing to kiss ass and grovel for a chance to have a 'better' life. In short, I was already doomed to fail so why should I give a shit about doing any better for myself.

Rewind gave him a long, silent look. "I take back what I said about the movie… That is the most disturbing thing I've ever heard."

"Yeah, well ain't going to change in my life time," said Raoul with a shrug. "Bet you guys don't have to deal with all that racist bullshit…"

"Actually, we do," said Rewind bluntly. "I was literally property."

"What?! You telling me you were a slave?"

"Slave would imply they considered me an actual person," grumbled Rewind. "I was one of the Disposable Class, so it's more accurate to say I was basically a flop-disk that could walk and talk."

"Okay," said Raoul. "That's pretty fucked up."

Rewind shrugged and sighed. "Well, it was but I could have had it so much worse if Dominus Ambus hadn't been to my… uh, my owner? My master? I… I really don't know a nice say it in English… well, in any language to be honest. But it… it didn't stay that way. See, he and I got along very well and in the course of our time together we become very close. He was even an advocate for the rights of Disposable mechs, among other things."

"So did he free you?"

"Yes… not that I wanted to leave him by then," said Rewind in a soft tone. "See, by then we… uh, I know this kind of thing isn't viewed as acceptable on Earth, but… Well, Dominus took me as his Conjunx Endura."

"Is that like the bonding thing?" asked Raoul, feeling oddly warm and chattier than normal.

"Yeah. That's exactly what it is."

"So you got married to the guy that was your owner?"

"Actually, I was given my freedom long before we got married. I just choose to stay with Dominus because I enjoyed being with him." Rewind sighed in a sad way. "It ended up being annulled later on due to my age, but Dominus was a very loving person."

"Still creepy of the guy…"

"Eh, well…" Rewind shrugged. "I am an alien, remember? Different culture, different values."

"How old are you? In human years, I mean."

Rewind looked down at his hands. "Uh… in human years? I'd say about sixteen or seventeen. Roughly your age."

Raoul nodded. "And how old were you when you got married?"

"…approximately fourteen."

"Okay. And this Dominus guy was…?"

"He would've been the equivalent of a fifty or so year old human," said Rewind quietly. "Before you ask, he's my ex-husband and likely dead by now. So, yeah…"

Raoul sighed as he patted the robot's shoulder. "Wow… Look, if it makes you feel better, I lost my virginity at thirteen to a guy who was in his late thirties. Who basically kidnapped me and kept as his 'mistress' while married with kids…"

"Is that the 'Paul' your friends cryptically talk about?"

"Yeah," Raoul said softly. "Yeah, that was Paul Geddis."

"Geddis? Like the gangsters that were working with the 'cons?"

"Yeah. He was Jimmy's son. And the reason the Geddis brothers had me stealin' cars for them." Raoul went quiet a moment, then said, "I meet Paul at the conversion therapy clinic my stepmother shipped me off to after she caught me kissing my cousin's friend at a block party."

Rewind raised an eye ridge. "That's a bit extreme…"

"He was twenty and black," said Raoul. "It didn't go any further than a kiss, but that's apparently enough to make me gay, so she sent me to some quack who said he could 'cure' me."

"There's a cure for homosexuality?" asked Rewind, his tone making it clear he doubted that was possible or even desirable.

"Nope!" Raoul replied. "Never was, never has been. Not that it'd have mattered, 'cause I ain't gay."

"Then how do you identify yourself?" Rewind asked. "Teletran's data-banks are woefully lacking in information about humanity sexuality and gender studies and this is literally the first time I've had a chance to ask. You are comfortable talking about it, right?"

"Why not?" he chuckled, feeling pleasantly buzzed off the pot and whatever the hell was in that pill. "My two best human buds already know and we're cool, so go ahead! Ask me anything!"

"Really?" Rewind thought a moment. "So, what gender do you consider yourself? Does it match the 'plumbing' as Spike puts it or—"

"I'm a man," Raoul said sharply, then he laughed. "And the 'plumbing' matches, okay?"

"But if it didn't, how would one correct it?" asked Rewind. "I know as organic lifeforms, it's probably more complicated than just switching out parts and doing a bit of rewiring. Whole process for us takes three or four Earth hours and even less if you forgo any cosmetic changes like breastplate alterations, facial restructuring, and what-not."

Raoul laughed again, rolling on the happy, open sensations flooding through him. "Man, I know a lady who'd love to have had her shit done that quick. She spent months going in and out of this hospital upstate to get the surgeries done because that was the only doctor willing to do it. And this was after years of trying to find a doctor who'd put her on hormones and all that bullshit. Before that, she spent even longer trying to find a shrink to make sure she had 'gender identity disorder' and really wanted to be a woman."

"How long did that take?" Rewind asked with a surprised look.

"Well, my Wicked Auntie Toni figured out she was a woman around when she was fifteen," said Raoul, finishing the joint as he thought back. "But she started her transition in her twenties after she met Milton and got her life together. So all total, I'd say it took Auntie Toni twenty-five to twenty-seven years to get it all done."

Rewind gaped at him in shock. "It took that long for your aunt to get a gender reassignment done?"

"Yep."

"Given your stepmother's behavior and the implication that your father backed her up, I assume Toni is your maternal aunt, right?"

"Nope!" Raoul grinned widely, embracing waves of euphoria despite recalling that bitter time. "Auntie Toni and I aren't blood relatives, but she's been family since we met on the ball scene. She took me in as her 'banjee baby' and went out of her way to help me out, even tracking down my uncle and reuniting us. Auntie Toni even helped my uncle get custody again. Even after she found out he was working at a chop shop and had been teaching me the trade, Toni thought that was a better life for me than staying with Paul. And she was right," he said with a laugh that was a bit too shrill and angry. "I only get involved with it because Paul liked queens. He… he cheated on me constantly with men and women…" Raoul's voice trailed off in a nasty laugh before he went quiet.

After a pause, he continued in a flat voice. "Paul kept saying they didn't mean nothing to him. Even said he only married his second wife Louise 'cause he knocked up her up and his old man made him 'do the right thing'. Didn't hurt her daddy was old money, either… But Paul always said he only loved me… And I believed him, because men are just like that, you know? So I when started doing the same, Paul would get pissed because I 'wasn't faithful'… And he was the type to talk with his fists, so I'd go hide at Auntie Toni's place or with my uncle till he calmed down. But I'm an idiot and I kept going back to Paul."

"Was there a reason why you stayed with him despite the abuse?" asked Rewind as gently as he could.

"Yeah, because I'm stupid. And I loved him." Raoul broke down in that angry laughter again, then went back to talking in a lifeless voice. "I kept trying to be 'good', but then I catch him screwing around again, we'd fight, I'd end up in the emergency room after a 'fall' and stay with family till Paul say 'sorry' and I'd go crawling back again… That shit went on about two years. Then one night, we got into argument, he took a swing and I lost my shit… This time, Paul ended up in the ICU since I cut him up pretty bad. Spent a couple of months in juvie, but Paul refused to press charges so the let me out despite the Geddis' wanting my fucking head on a pike."

"Is that when you left him?"

Raoul laughed again. "Nope! Like I said, I'm stupid. So when Paul came over to my uncle's shop looking for me, I let him talk me into going right back. I want to say that it was because I still loved the bastard, but now that I think about it, I know I only went back because I felt sorry for Paul. He'd been sick for a months with all these nasty red scabs and rashes before then and all his 'friends' started to abandon him by that point. Paul was always going back to the doctor but he never let me see any of the lab results. I don't know why he bothered because by the end he looked like a fucking skeleton and it was so damn obvious what he had…"

Raoul fell silent, feeling uncomfortably exposed suddenly as paranoia gripped him. But when he noticed Rewind politely waiting to see if he'd continue, he relaxed and went on.

"I should have figured it out right from the start because we never had sex unless Paul had a rubber. When I found that I was the only person Paul ever bothered using protection with, I was so pissed because I assumed he thought I was 'damaged goods' but he'd just laugh it off and say I should be grateful he gave enough of a shit about me to not want risk giving me something. He'd say the same thing he'd say whenever I'd bitch about him taking me to the doctor and insisted I get tested every damn time. That just made me even angrier because I thought he didn't trust me. Now I wonder if Paul might've cared more than he let on…" Raoul paused again, staring into space a moment as he dwelt on the memories. Then he said in soft, hollow voice, "He was a horrible son of a bitch, but I dodged a lot of bullets thanks to Paul. In fact, the best thing Paul ever did was browbeat the importance of always using a condom into my thick skull. I don't even shoot up because I don't want to catch something. Well, that and 'cause I really don't like needles…"

"I presume Paul contracted a sexually transmitted disease, right?"

"Yeah," said Raoul quietly. "He'd caught the Big One! But I kept telling myself it wasn't, because Paul keep reassuring me it was just some kind of cancer. That's what he told his family even though his old man pretty much tore the apartment he kept me at and his old lady's place in Jersey apart looking for the actual papers because Jimmy figured it out when Louise noticed her littlest boy getting sick. They never found any proof, not that it stopped the Geddis' family from blaming me even after I proved that I'm negative." Raoul thought a moment, then sighed. "Actually, that ain't quite right. Louise and Paul's mother started out blaming me too till they finally met me in person and found out I was 'just a kid'. Louise knew about me then but thought I was in my twenties… They're kind of the reason I didn't catch a couple of bullets and get buried in a landfill, because they were both disgusted Paul was fucking around with a kid the younger than his oldest kid. Louise even apologized to me after she came to see me when my uncle ended up in the joint. Didn't hurt that I made her copies before I destroyed the originals…"

"But the Geddis brothers didn't share that sentiment, did they?"

"Never have!" laughed Raoul. "Jimmy's still convinced I somehow killed his boy. Because he never saw the proof that it was Paul's own fault, because I got to it first. Paul kept his 'personal papers' locked up in a filing cabinet in his office at the Geddis' main shop because he knew his old man wouldn't think to check there. Too obvious, you see. Then one day, Paul gave me the keys, made me swear that I'd burn all his private papers after he died, then told me to leave and never come back. I guess he wanted to spare me having to watch him rot away."

"What happened?"
"He went to the hospital the very next morning, then passed away a week later and they said it was 'cancer'. And it was true, technically. I only found out it was Kaposi's sarcoma after I used the key he gave me so I could do what he asked and finally got a look at all those test results. I took so much time trying to unjam the fucking Xerox again that I didn't have a chance to run when his old man come in with his crew to open up and caught me in the office with a wastebasket full of burning paper. I'm just glad they didn't take the envelope in my jacket…"

"And that's why they had you steal cars for them?"

"Yeah. That was all Victor's idea after Phil talked Jimmy down, cause they all agreed that goddamn Xerox had it coming. Victor Darth is one of Phil's favorite boys and was my uncle boss at the shop. He felt sorry for me, so Victor talked the Geddises into having me boost cars for their new 'friends'. It was either that or they dump my ass into a compactor," said Raoul with a yawn. "But I guess it worked out for the best, since if that hadn't happened I'd never gotten to meet you guys."

"Good point," hummed Rewind. "And the 'positive' you mentioned is for acquired immunodeficiency syndrome, isn't it?"

Raoul gave him a long look. "You guys know what AIDS is?"

"Of course!" chirped a giddy voice as a guy in a surgical mask that looked vaguely like a Latino Egon appeared behind them. "It's a pandemic. Why wouldn't we know about it?"

Rewind had a pistol out and leveled at the stranger in barely a second. "What the fuck are you doing here, Brainstorm?! And how the hell did you get a holo-form?!"

"He installed it himself," said another man who Raoul suspected was the real Doc Brown. He leaned close to the boy, studying him like some kind of alien bug. "Brainstorm's very proud of it since we've finally managed to make the process work for those with a master system."

"Uh, Rewind? You know these guys?" Raoul asked, scooting away from Brainstorm's buddy before the guy could touch him.

"That's Arcana, a Nebulan scientist," said Rewind, keeping his gun aimed at Brainstorm. "And Brainstorm's head."

"His what?"

"I'm a Headmaster," said Arcana as he sat down a bag out of which he began taking out various scientific equipment from it such as a red microscope and weird but clearly medical devices. "Brainstorm and I invented the process that allows a Cybertronian to replace their cranial structures with an organic lifeform or a smaller robot to allow for greater mobility, enhanced computing power, and various other benefits."

"You a robot too?"

"No. I am actually a Nebulan."

Raoul stared at him. "I thought Nebulans were green, man."

"Oh! So you've met my people before?"

"Tandy's avatar is one."

"Good," said Arcana as his skin shifted to a dark green. He glanced at Brainstorm for a moment a bit too long for Raoul's liking, then turned to Rewind. "Do you mind going out to the balcony so Brainstorm and Perceptor can get you up to speed while I examine the human?"

"They sent Percy along with you?" grumbled Rewind.

"Actually," said the microscope in prim and polite voice. "I volunteered as Ultra Magnus had concerns that letting Brainstorm be unsupervised around the young human would be ill-advised and decided that he needed a 'baby-sitter'. Hence why I am here."

Raoul raised an eyebrow as he pointed to Arcana. "Uh, why not just let Doc here do it?"

"As Rewind pointed out, I'm literally Brainstorm's head," he said, preparing a thing that looked like a pistol syringe. "And I believe that makes me a bit biased in his favor, should anything go wrong."

"What do you mean 'go wrong'?" hissed Raoul as he climbed into the protection of Rewind's lap to avoid Arcana.

"He's got a point," Rewind said sharply, wrapping a protective arm around the human. "Just what the hell are you trying to do?"

Brainstorm shared another weird look with Arcana, then sighed. "We're trying to establish some baseline vitals for Raoul, along with a few other, very minor blood tests. I promise it's all minimally invasive and won't cause any long term damage to his body or mind."

"Now I know you're up to something," said Rewind as he cuddled Raoul close while keeping his gun on Brainstorm.

"Rewind, you have my word that no harm will befall the human," said Perceptor softly. "Now put that thing away and let's go talk."

Rewind started to argue, but Raoul cut him off. "Hold up. You're the science guy that wanted to know if holos were 'functional', right?"

"Yes," said Perceptor. "And Tracks has already made it clear that I am not to inquire about your personal life. With the kind of language I have not heard since I left the Wreckers."

Raoul raised an eyebrow. "You telling me Mister Prissy Fenders found out Chip asked me that and cussed you out for it?"

"He assumed I put Chip up to it…" he said dryly. "And Tracks also took a few comments I had previously made after seeing images of you out of context."

"And what could you have said to get that kind of reaction?"

Before Perceptor could think up a reply, Brainstorm chimed in gleefully, "His exact words were 'If I was in Tracks' place, I'd fuck him too'."

Perceptor huffed in annoyance. "In my defense, your features are quite attractive by both Earthly and Cybertronian standards. And I was a bit inebriated when I said it, which I did apologize for. So there was no excuse for him to threaten to remove my reactor linkage out my exhaust port and feed it back to me."

"Which does confirm that you are a 'sensitive' topic with Tracks and likely his lover. So are the holo-forms functional?" asked Brainstorm, completely oblivious to the awkward looks that got him.

"We aren't fucking," said Raoul flatly. "Tracks ain't interested, okay?"

Brainstorm cocked his head at an angle. "Interesting. And what's been your response to this rejection?"

Giving him a long, cold glare, Raoul said bluntly, "I've got the worst fucking case of blue balls imaginable."

"I see," hummed Brainstorm, giving Arcana that weird look again before turning back to the boy. "What is the reason you haven't sought out other sexual partners? Are you unable to locate one? Or is it due to a lack of interest in members of your species?"

"Tracks has had me on a tight leash lately," said Raoul, his anger dulled by the pleasant buzz he had going on now. "And I ain't exactly been in the best shape, so I've been staying home."

Before Brainstorm could ask more questions, Perceptor cut him off, "Is this necessary?"

"Says the guy who's been asking about my sex life," Raoul laughed. "So Percy, you got one of those hologram things?"

Perceptor was silent a moment, then hesitantly said, "Yes."

"Okay." Raoul grinned as he climbed back out of Rewind's lap and managed to slump back onto the couch. "Tell you what: I'll let you guys poke and prod me as much as you want… but first you gotta let me see what you look like."

"That would be difficult since, despite being classed a minibot, I am still large enough it would likely cause catastrophic structural damage if I attempted to transform."

Rewind rolled his optics as he reluctantly put away the pistol. "Uh, he wants to see you're holo-form, Percy."

"Oh… I do not think that would be a good idea," said Perceptor, managing to look embarrassed as a faceless microscope. "See, a problem occurred when Wheeljack did some last minute calibrations before I left…"

"What did he do? Make it unstable enough to explode?" asked Rewind.

"Certainly not!" Perceptor laughed softly. "It is actually a relatively minor cosmetic issue, one which might not go over so well given that Tracks is an extremely possessive mech and he might assume the worst of my intentions."

Raoul leaned forward with a grin. "Ah, come on man! What? Did you do like Eject and choose a Playboy centerfold too?"

"No. I am male and identify as such," said Perceptor. "My holo-form is actually an approximation of what I would look like as a human, as that was the easiest to program in initially."

"So you telling me Jazz actually is what on Cybertron would be a black guy?"

"Well, yes, but I must say that human notions of 'race' are not quite the same as ours…"

"Okay." Raoul's grin widened as he staggered to his feet and playfully picked up the microscope. "So what you look like?"

Perceptor sighed. "And if I do so, you will cooperate, correct?"

"Yes."

"…very well." With one last sigh of defeat, Perceptor complied and proceeded to project a beam just in front of him. It briefly created a humanoid shape made of a green grid pattern, then finalized into a very tall, very athletic, and very attractive Asian man in glasses and only the bottom half of military fatigues. "As you have noticed by now, the generator has been consistently failing to create the upper potion of clothing. Which I see is causing you to react in a similar manner as Carly and Chip did when it first occurred…"

It took Raoul a moment to metaphorically pick his jaw off the floor before he managed to stammer out, "Holy shit… You're built like a tank…"

"My other alt mode is a tank, so your statement is very accurate. And by the way, my eyes are up here."

"Yeah, I know," said Raoul as he kept staring at Preceptor's chest, idly petting his actually body. "Never thought I'd see a geek who could bench press more than a pencil…"

Preceptor flushed, causing the strange glowing lines to appear over his skin. "I will presume that is meant to be complimentary."

"Hell yes!" Raoul chuckled, suddenly looking Preceptor in the eye. "Say, my birthday's three days away. If you're still in town then, wanna got hit some clubs? You know, help you with that research 'cause I'm all for further science and shit. Don't worry, I ain't gonna take you to a leather bar…"

Preceptor frown slightly, but still seeming pretty pleased at Raoul's absentminded fondling. "Pity. I am into that sort of thing."

"And I think now is the time for that little talk, Percy," Brainstorm said hastily, taking the microscope out of Raoul's hands into Preceptor's as he none too gently pushed him out to the balcony.

Rewind hopped up and gently shook the still gaping Raoul. "You okay?"

"He's into bondage and shit?" asked Raoul, trying to reconcile his preconceived idea of 'geeky scientist' with the concept of Preceptor. "I mean, he looks like a gym rat but… but… damn…"

"Yeah… Percy's a bit… uh, blunt about that sort of thing," Rewind said. "He worked the Pyramid making protoforms is why he's like that as one of his jobs was teaching what you'd call 'health' class. But once being a Wrecker is the reason for everything else."

"Let me guess," said Raoul softly. "Do these wrecker guys do the funeral services, too?"

"Actually, their modern incarnation is a special forces unit," said Arcana, double-checking the equipment he'd laid out. "But you're actually not too far off on their faction's original function before Nova Prime's unification campaign started a civil war. The primes that followed him up until Optimus only aggravated matters in hindsight. But that'll be a topic for a latter date, as I believe Brainstorm is finished chewing Preceptor out for startling the boy. You can leave us now Rewind."

Rewind stayed were he was and asked something in Nebulan with a tone that Raoul immediately recognized as being far more obscene than he'd ever expected from the cassette.

"You have my word that my examination of the boy will be as minimally invasive as possible," Arcana said, pointedly speaking in English but otherwise seemingly unfazed. "And your father's already made it pretty clear that he'll do worse to Brainstorm and myself than that if we cause this boy unnecessary harm."

Raoul backed away from him again. "Hey, I ain't exactly okay with the 'unnecessary' there, Doc…"

"I'll need to take blood samples twice daily for approximately a fourteen of Earth's twenty-four hour solar cycles," said Arcana. "Along with urine samples, weight checks, and possibly even fecal samples too. It depends on what Soundwave dosed you with."

"What?!" barked Raoul and Rewind in unison.

"Soundwave had you infected with a nanovirus," said Arcana in a calm tone as donned thick gloves, a surgical mask, and a face shield. "We're not sure if it occurred during Buzzsaw's attack or after the boy was admitted to the hospital for treatment. It's apparently a slow acting type as it's taken over nine Earth lunar cycles before the viral load has reached a threshold to be detectable in the filters for the sewage outtakes here. Thankful, the nanovirus appears to be custom designed to only affect the boy, otherwise Ultra Magnus would've authorized an orbital strike on the entire city." When he noticed the looks of horror that got, the old man sighed with a shrug. "Before you say it, Brainstorm and I pointed out that such extreme measures would not be necessary as gray goo scenarios are so rare especially when dealing with an organic lifeform with such high genetic variability that have been living in extreme isolation like humanity currently does. I mean, you all haven't even sent a second manned mission to your own moon yet, so it's basically a waste of time manufacturing a universal killer nanovirus since humans are such fast breeders that it'd be rendered useless within one generation."

"That's not reassuring, Arcana," said Rewind, gently hugging Raoul.

"What the fuck did he give me then?" Raoul asked sharply.

Arcana shrugged. "Don't know. The acids in the human digestive process is sufficient enough to degrade the nanovirus that we needed to use Quantum repeater just to reconstruct enough of it's CNA to determine that it was targeted specifically to you, young man. But it's highly likely Soundwave is not planning to kill you, so don't worry!"

"He infected me with some kind of fucking robot virus and you're telling me not to worry?!"

"Well, yes," said Arcana. "He's a sadist and obviously wants to make you suffer greatly for as long as possible simply because you're allied with the Autobots. There's also the little matter of you publicly humiliating his lover…"

Raoul made a gagging noise. "Ugh! I could have gone my whole life without knowing Starscream had sex…"

"Actually, he was talking about Megatron," said Rewind.

"Seriously?" Raoul thought a moment, then cringed. "The bastard's sleeping with his boss?"

"And why is so odd?" asked Arcana.

"It kind of implies he slept his way to the top…" Raoul gagged again. "Which is not at all the way I ever wanted to picture Soundwave or Megatron, thanks."

Arcana paused as he thought something over, then sighed. "From what Brainstorm recalls, the affair started after Soundwave took over as Chief Communications Officer and established his position as Megatron's right hand."

"And how does Brainstorm—?"

"He used to be a Decepticon," said Arcana, putting a thin square plate on the ground in front of Raoul. "He defected after Shockwave did the unforgivable. I mean, even Starscream wouldn't stoop so low. Now, please get on the scale so I can start to get your baseline vitals."

Raoul gave him a long, hard look. "You just said your the head to a guy that used to be a Decepticon. And I'm just supposed to trust you?"

"Brainstorm and I are scientists, first and foremost. And Shockwave violated that most important of all things in science: the integrity of one's research!" snapped Arcana, showing emotion openly. "I'll admit that neither of us have exactly 'pleasant' personalities by conventional standards, but you at least give credit where credit is due, damn it!"

"Uh-huh…" grumbled Rewind, then he looked to Raoul. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"No," he replied. "No. I want to know what the fuck that bastard did to me, Rewind."

"You want me to stay?"

"Nah, I'm good man," said Raoul patting the robot's arm.

"Right. Just yell if you need anything," said Rewind as he pulled away. When he managed to squeeze out the door to the balcony, Raoul turned to Arcana.

"So, you want me to step on this thing?"

"Yes."

"Ain't going to blast me through time and space, is it?"

Arcana gave him frown. "It's just a scale, boy. Besides, Brainstorm's briefcase is currently locked up in Preceptor's secret gun cache until he apologizes to the sniper about a certain embarrassing incident when he procured several of Preceptor's 'pets' without permission to test out a new fertilizer we'd been working on. Now, get on and keep your hands at your sides. And don't worry, the scanner's able to read through most fabric so you can remain clothed."

"Why do I need to do… whoa!" Raoul stepped on the scale and jumped off as soon as a ring of machinery started and squeezing a glowing blue-light grid around him as it crept upwards. "What the hell is that?!"

"As I said, a scale," said Arcana catching Raoul before he fell over. "It's a standard scale to measure height, weight, body mass, bone density, and a full body imaging of your internal organs. Surely they have these on this planet."

"No, actually, they don't," Raoul said as he jerked away from the old man. "Scales on Earth just tell you what you weight and maybe have this pole thing that shows your height."

"Huh… I was aware that your planet's primitive, but I never suspected it was this bad," grumbled Arcana as he leaned down to do some adjustments to the scale. "Now I see why you're so nervous…"

"Yo, you just dropped some Star Trek level shit on me man!" said Raoul. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around Soundwave giving me a disease he had made just for me because I paint bombed his old lady!"

Arcana laughed as he continued his work. "Old lady? A surprisingly accurate description of their roles in that relationship."

"You telling me Megatron's a bitch?" said Raoul with a nasty smile.

"If by 'bitch' you mean the receptive partner, then yes. He usually takes that role for Soundwave, at least from the footage I've had the misfortune of seeing. But think that reflects less upon Megatron's masculinity or lack thereof by your cultural standards and more because Soundwave is happiest when serving his master." Arcana stood up and gestured to Raoul to come back. "There. I've set the grid scanner to make a wider column so you can move, though I'd appreciate it if you'd warn me about any issues with things like physical contact."

"I ain't got a problem," he said back. "It's just that I ain't cool with getting my ass probed by some guy I just met, you know?"

"I see…" Arcana stooped again and quickly made one last adjustment. "Well, I suppose I'll have to ask Tracks to do that later…"

Raoul laughed, shaking his head. "I think you'd have better luck asking Jazz. At least he seems like he'll put out! And I think he's actually into me…"

"Interesting. I was not aware that it was possible for that much emotional bleed-over in such a recent bond."

"What you mean 'bond'?" asked Raoul sharply. "You guys use that word when you're talking about being married…"

"Because they are," said Arcana in matter-of-fact tone. "Tracks and Blaster formed a Conjunx Endura based trine with Jazz approximately two Earth centuries ago. You see, polygamy is acceptable in most of the galaxy and it's strange humans are so strictly shown as having monogamous, heterosexual binary pair unions. But this might be just a cultural ideal for one faction on your planet, as we only have extensive data on what is called the 'Western World'. Perhaps you can explain… Uh, are you alright?"

Raoul stared at him in silence as it felt like the whole world had shattered, then said quietly, "Tracks' has been married for two hundred years and he never bothered to tell me?"

"Actually, he's been married (as you put it) to Blaster since before the war began, which is millennia by your standards," Arcana said, gently guiding the boy back onto the scale. "And, in all fairness, there's standing orders for all Autobots and their allies to avoid revealing any information about Cybertronian, Nebulan, or any other extraterrestrial cultures in agreement with the Tyrest Accord."

"And what the fuck is that?" asked Raoul as Arcana fired up the scanner and the weird grid crossed over him, leaving him standing in the middle of a just barely visible bluish haze.

"It's a piece of military law that states no technology from any race capable of intergalactic travel and warfare is to be allowed to fall into the hands of a 'less advanced' alien civilization. It began when the Codes of Interplanetary Conduct created by Chief Justice Tyrest to codify Cybertronian military law, but has since been adopted by the majority of the known universe in the aftermath of the Mиp catastrophe. Even the Decepticons will at least pay lip service to the Accord," Arcana said dryly as he took out a device that looked like a fancier version of Tandy's and pulled up a projection of Raoul's scans.

"And that's why you all ain't helping us?"

"Depends on how you define 'help'," said Arcana. "See, if it's in response to the actions of the Decepticons, we're allowed to take defensive measures to protect humans. But we're not allowed to arm you or otherwise render aid in a manner that's not available on your planet currently."

"So what's up with all this?" said Raoul, gesturing at the scanner and watching a lights flicker along the veil of haze. "This literally is impossible here!"

"I have issued a special dispensation given the current circumstances," boomed a disembodied voice that Raoul swore was Captain Kramer from Airplane!. "And I will remind you, Arcana, that you are to avoid telling the human more than what's strictly necessary to prevent his death. Am I clear?"

"Yes sir," said Arcana without even a hint of emotion.

"Hey! Who the hell are you and how are you listening in on us?" Raoul asked angrily. "You Red Alert? 'Cause I got a bone to pick with you about some 'candid camera' footage of me and Tracks going round…"

"My name is 'Ultra Magnus' and I would like to know how you acquired that footage."

Before Raoul could think up an answer, Arcana calmly replied, "Tracks likely told him about it as he's extremely protective of the boy. I'm pretty sure he has warned the boy about future indiscretion, hasn't he Raoul?"

"Yeah," said Raoul, catching on quick. "Yeah, big guy flipped his shit over it and made me promise to not do it again. He didn't go into detail, just said Red Alert put this a hidden camera in the garage and the film got out somehow."

"I see," said Ultra Magnus. "Well, I suggest you refrain from prying too much into such matters. We will do our best to aid you but I must make you aware that the needs of the many outweigh those of the few."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that I am perfectly willing to do whatever it takes to prevent the Decepticons from unleashing a plague on Earth," Ultra Magnus said in a calm tone. "Including not only euthanizing you but glassing New York to keep the threat contained if it comes to that."

Raoul stared up the source of the voice in horror. "You'd kill a city filled with hundreds of thousands of innocent people for that?"

"You misunderstand," said Ultra Magnus. "I am prepared to wipe the entire state of New York off the face of Earth to uphold the Accord."

"Good Lord!" snarled Tracks as he swept in and only stopped from scooping Raoul up protectively by Arcana blocking his way. "You have no right saying such things to the boy!"

Ultra Magnus replied in Cybertronian, sparking a brief but very heated argument that ended with Tracks saying something clearly vulgar while making a very obscene gesture at the ceiling.

Smiling, Arcana disengaged the scanner and leaned into Raoul's ear. "He just expressed his displeasure at Ultra Magnus' lack of sympathy… by telling the commander to 'go fuck himself'."

"I will repeat myself for the benefit of the human," said Ultra Magnus dryly. "I am City Commander of the Autobots in addition to my status as Marshall of the Accord. As such, I expect to be treated with respect." He paused, then in a kinder tone said, "But I understand that this situation is sensitive given the emotional attachment and the human's young age, so I'm going to let that outburst slide. And I will continue to allow the boy's quarters to remain off the surveillance feeds for his privacy, though I wish to make it clear this is not optimal security. I also want to make it clear that we are going to do our best to find a solution that will ideally save the boy from whatever the Decepticons have planned. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," said Arcana and Tracks in unison while Raoul just nodded.

"Good. Ultra Magnus signing off."

There was a silence as they waited to be sure Ultra Magnus had really stopped listening, then Tracks noticed Raoul was starting to sway.

"Are you okay?" he asked, quickly going over to let him lean on his shoulder.

"I just found out I've got some kind of designer alien virus and had a guy tell me he's fine with nuking New York. Oh, and that you're a married man," said Raoul coldly as he laid his head one Tracks' chest. "No. No I'm not okay."

Tracks stiffened but kept his tone level. "I see. Do you need to lay down?"

"Yeah," said Raoul, feeling unpleasantly stoned as the high off that pill started to ramp up. "Yeah. I need to lay down."

"Before you do…" Arcana held up the syringe pistol again and moved towards them as he took the cap off the tiny needle tips. "I'll need to get a sample of your blood."

Shrinking back into Tracks' embrace, Raoul frowned and wondered if he was nervous at the idea of getting stuck or as a side effect of whatever the hell he was on. "Uh, I thought you had to do that kind of thing before I ate or took medication."

"You don't need to be fasting for this," said Arcana as he picked up a small wipe in his free hand. "Now let me see your arm, please."

Raoul reluctantly offered his arm and wondered if the Nebulan would even knew what to look for or if this was just an excuse to pop him for a drug test as Arcana cleaned a spot on his forearm. There was a barely noticeable sting when he pressed the gun to Raoul's arm and had the thumb-nail sized vial filled in only a few seconds. As Arcana pulled the gun away and put a skin-like patch over the tiny sore spot, Raoul laughed in relief. "You done already?"

"Of course! This is more than enough to do what I'm need to. Honestly, this is model is pretty outdated. I literally had this very type while I was completing my final year of medical training," said Arcana as he connected the gun to his tiny computer. "Modern models have integrated sensor packs that are wireless so you don't need such large sample sizes to do basic tests but I'm making do with what's available. Sorry if that was unpleasant to endure."

"That's unpleasant?" said Raoul in shock. "I hardly felt that at all. Seriously, you'd make a killing if you patented that stuff here on Earth and got it in all the hospitals!"

"But the Tyrest Accord has made that impossible even if it's for strictly humanitarian reasons," Tracks said, gently steering Raoul away from the now preoccupied Arcana. "And I have had my fill of Ultra Magnus tonight."

"Fine…" Pausing only long enough to get Tandy off the coffee table, Raoul let Tracks practically carry him to his bedroom and quickly closing the door behind them, the lock making a faint click. He sat down on the bed, just barely managing to grab Tracks' sleeve before he could move away. "When were you gonna tell me?"

"I only found out about the nanovirus when Rewind called to the tell me," said Tracks as he sat down next to him. He fumbled out a pack of cigarettes and started to take one out, then noticed the look Raoul gave him and put them away quickly. "Oh. Sorry… I've been a bit stressed out…"

"You smoke," Raoul said softly as he put Tandy on the nightstand and hooked up her charger. "You curse. And you're married to not one, but two guys? Tell me, big guy, is there anything else I don't know about you or am I just going to have to find it out from guys like Doc Arcana?"

"And just what did he say?"

"That you and Blaster have been married for thousands of years, then you two married Jazz," said Raoul. "And that's apparently pretty normal for you guys. For most of the universe, if Arcana's right."

"But it's not considered normal on Earth," Tracks said. "And the reason I never mentioned it…"

"Was because that stupid law, right?" asked Raoul, cutting him off sharply. "I get it man. But you still could've told me."

"You'd have wanted details," said Tracks, gently putting an arm around his shoulders. "And you'd have gotten jeal—upset over it."

Raoul just laughed, laying his head on Tracks' shoulder. "Jealous. You were going to say 'jealous', weren't you?"

"Well, you can be a bit… emotional about things."

"So I can be 'emotional'?" said Raoul with another laugh. "This coming from the guy who would pull the Christine act when I'd try to take dates out for rides in him?"

Bright lines flashing on his face again, Tracks huffed quietly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Really? Then explain why practically everyone who rode in you thought you were possessed?" said Raoul, angry but oddly calm. "Hell! Sophie even offered to call a priest for me to get the 'demons' exorcised from you."

"In my defense," Tracks growled, eyes flashing to solid blue. "You could have done far better than her. That little bi—… young woman had all moral fortitude of a dog in heat! All she was looking for was sex. And it didn't matter with whom or what she got it from."

"Yeah. I know," said Raoul. "Why do you think I took her out?!"

Leaning in so their foreheads touched, Tracks said softly, "You can do better."

"Is that an offer?" When Tracks stayed silent, he pushed on with a nervous giggle. "You already got two husbands, you know. And I know at least Jazz is cool with the idea of making it three…"

"And so is Blaster by the way!" chirped Brainstorm from the shadows, turning towards them slowly on the desk chair as he idly inspected Raoul's windbreaker. "Oh! Sorry, but did I interrupt something?"

Tracks got to his feet and went over to him. "How the hell did you get in here?"

"That way," said Brainstorm, pointing to the sliding door out to the balcony. "We'd finished getting Rewind caught up, so I decided to come in here and make a quick study of the human's quarters. Very interesting, I must say…" He leaned to look past the looming Tracks at Raoul. "Oh! By the way, I'd suggest you start locking all your doors after dark. Especially the balcony one, as none of Decepticon Spy Patrol is adverse to breaking and entering to get at an objective. And Buzzsaw in particular has no problem committing gruesome homicides…"

"I guess you'd know all about it, being a 'Con," snapped Raoul.

"Former," said Brainstorm, the cheerful facade cracking slightly. "I am an Autobot now."

"So what made you leave? Was if just when that Shockwave…"

The facade came back on strong as Brainstorm cut him off. "Oh! I have an extensive, itemized list of grievances regarding the treatment I endured during my tenure as a Decepticon. One of the biggest was what Soundwave did to my face as 'punishment' for calling Shockwave out on his shit…" Before Tracks could stop him, Brainstorm took off the surgical mask and revealed the lower half had most of the flesh craved off to make it disturbingly skeletal, with neatly cut scars forcing his mouth into a permanent smile that stretched nearly to each ear. It had the effect of making the perky way he talked and the actual smile he had downright horrific. "But we'd be here all night if I started talking about those past traumas!"

"Are you done scaring the boy?" Tracks hissed, glaring down as Brainstorm put his mask back on.

"It's not that bad," said Brainstorm, getting to his feet with a little bounce. He moved toward Raoul, but got stopped short by Tracks grabbing his arm. "Will you calm down? I just want to give him back his jacket."

"It's cool, big guy," Raoul said, causing him to let Brainstorm go. As he leaned down to hand it over, Brainstorm used to the windbreaker to hid that he was slipping the case the creeper gave him into the boy's hand. When Raoul gave him nervous look, Brainstorm winked and subtly gesturing for him to keep quiet. Taking it and the hint, Raoul nodded at him. "Uh, thanks man."

Under the wrathful gaze of Tracks, Brainstorm bounced away and went back out onto the balcony. Tracks waited till he'd closed the door before he turned back to Raoul. "Are you going to be alright?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

Tracks started to go back over to Raoul but stopped and went to the balcony door. He paused again, looking back over his shoulder. "If you need me, I'll be cleaning up. Now please, get some rest."

"Right…" Raoul sighed, fidgeting with the windbreaker but keeping the case hidden under it. "Good night, Tracks."

"Good night," he replied, pulling the curtain as he went out the door.

Waiting a few moments after hearing the door close, Raoul took a look at the case and saw there were a couple of sticky notes on it with very small but painfully neat writing on along with some doodles. He leaned over, turning on the lamp to see Tandy was on and had been watching in 'blackout' mode.

"You know, it's not nice to listen in on people."

"I don't like him!" Tandy blurted out in a fearful whisper.

"Who? Tracks?"

She shook her head, keeping her voice down. "No. Brainstorm. He's… He's a very, very bad person."

"Well, yeah," said Raoul with a laugh. "Homeboy used to be a 'Con and got his face jacked up like that… Of course he ain't a good guy." He looked at the notes with a frown. "Arcana seems to be pretty okay. I mean, he's Brainstorm's head but at least he been pretty honest with me. Besides, they're both Autobots so that's got mean something."

"Well, I guess…"

"Okay then." Giving up trying to read the notes with bleary vision, Raoul held the notes out to her. "Hey, can you please tell me what's on these? I'm seeing double and whoever wrote them must write for ants!"

"Sure!" Tandy held the notes up so the camera could scan them, then projected blown up version for Raoul to look at and realize that they were written in what he guessed was Cybertronian. "It says the thing you have is a basic direct neural induction set."

"And that does…"

"Well, you put it on you head like this," Tandy pointed at the eerily detailed diagram of a human head showing them wearing the set like a hair net. "Then you plug in here." She pointed at a hole in her frame. "And it'll connect your brain directly to a computer and access things like total virtual reality. Oh! And that business card has a code UV stamped on it that links to an environmental database of Cybertron."

"Really?" asked Raoul as he took out the card and looked at it. But his longing to see that world himself was tempered by his own suspicions at how he'd gotten the damn thing. "If I put this thing on, it ain't going to fry my brains is it?"

"Oh no!" said Tandy with a giggle as she scanned the card. "All legitimate sets are designed to protect users from attacks. Besides, this things so old that I doubt anyone could hack into it even if they wanted too. I mean, they even had to put a backwards compatible adapter on the plug just to use my ports! But if you want, I'll go along with you."

Raoul thought a moment, taking the induction set out and staring at it pensively. Then he placed it on his head, adjusted the patches as he plugged it in. As he laid down, he noticed an unpleasant prickling in his skull. "It's it supposed to feel itchy?"

"It's just the filaments," Tandy said gently. "Don't worry, they won't do any damage unless you rip them out too soon."

"Oh, that's reassuring…"

"It's not that bad! Now, are you ready to do this?"

Getting comfortable, Raoul nodded. "Yeah, let's—"

And found himself floating in a bright void with a human sized Tandy standing in front of him.

"…do this?"

Tandy giggled as she watched Raoul look around in disbelief. "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"If you say so," he muttered, watching colorful abstract shapes move all around them.

Tandy just giggled as she grabbed Raoul's hand and pulled him towards one of the shapes. "I don't know why you're so nervous! Most people on Nebulan already have a neural implant by your age."

"They put this shit into their heads?!" said Raoul in shock.

"No! It's port like the one you plug headphones into," she said. "They usually put it behind an ear or on temple for ease of access. It's a pretty standard surgery, but nowadays people are getting them grown in with a nanovirus."

As they stopped in front of a shifting blob, Raoul gave her a funny look. "Wait. You telling me those viruses can grow things into people?"

"Yes, but it's not very common," said Tandy as she pulled a little keyboard out and poked its cable into the blob. Typing quickly, she sighed. "Nanosurgery is extremely expensive, meaning usually only the ultra rich or government agents get done. And there's still a bit of a social stigma towards biotechnology in general on Nebulous, so people usually stick with standard methods for modifications. …there!"

Hitting one last button, Tandy gently pulled Raoul back as the blob changed into a massive doorway that looked like one of those big red Japanese gates. Her smile quickly disappeared when she got a good look at it. "That's… that's not right…"

"What's wrong?"

"This isn't what the gateway…" Tandy said, double checking the link. "The right code's right, but I've never seen a gateway like this before…"

Raoul carefully moved closer to get a better look through the gate at a path cutting through a dense, foggy forest. "It doesn't look dangerous…"

"I don't know…" said Tandy, looking over he shoulder. "Someone might have hijacked the link."

"You said this thing won't let me get hurt, right?" asked Raoul as he moved to just the edge of the gate.

"Well, yes."

"And you got ways to keep from getting hurt too, don't you?"

"Yes, I do…"

"Then let's go!" said Raoul as he stepped through the gate before Tandy could stop him. Grinning, he turned to where Tandy should have been. "See, that wasn't so… bad?"

Tandy wasn't there. Only the gate was, but instead of leading back to the void space, the path stretched off into the darkness. He glanced around in mounting panic then heard a crunch on the path. Raoul turned and was face to face with small person in white robes and one of those Asian demon masks.

"Hello," said the masked person in deep voice that sounded like a chorus of people speaking. "Please, follow me. Despite time in these VR things being pretty meaningless, we don't much of it till the bastard figures out what I just did."

"Where's Tandy?!" snapped Raoul as he grabbed the stranger. "What the hell is going on?"

"Tandy…? Oh! The little computer," said the stranger in a more feminine voice that remind Raoul of someone. "Don't worry about her. The trojan was designed to put her into sleep mode and alter her memory to think you two went on a little tourist trip through Cybertron anyway, so I simply let that part play out. It won't hurt her."

"You messing with her head and that ain't hurting her?"

"Compared to what the bastard originally wanted to do, I'd say we're being very nice to Tandy," grumbled the stranger as they jerked free. "Now, I'd like to have what's likely going to be my last chance talk to you without any outside interference. Okay?"

Raoul thought a moment, then shrugged in defeat. "Sure! Why the hell not?"

"Excellent! Follow me." With that, the stranger turned and started up the path. It was only after they'd gone up the path a while that Raoul noticed the stranger didn't have any feet and was gliding along over the ground.

"Uh, what are you?" he asked. "Are you a ghost or something?"

The stranger laughed, a low rumbling that echoed through the still forest. "Ghost? Yes… that's one way to put it."

"So what's your name?"

"Prior to my death, I was Dr. Eloise Presser," said the stranger as they continued along the path. "And I was a Japanese Canadian, so next time you call me slurs I expect you to at least get my race correct!"

"Wait… You're the creeper, aren't you?" Raoul said. "If you could speak English all this time, why didn't you just tell about this neural thing? And why the fuck were you following me around like that?"

"Because I couldn't," said Presser, voice shifting to the legion's. "Our freedom of action is currently inhibited by our weakened state that binds us to do the bidding of our 'commander'."

"You're talking about Ultra Magnus, right?" asked Raoul. "Yeah, that sounds like the shit a guy like him would pull. So, are you his Headmaster like Arcana…"

"Magnus is actually a smaller robot piloting a really big transactor," Presser replied, going to back their more normal voice.

"What's a 'transactor'?"

"It's a body that can be piloted, either solely by a smaller entity or as a joint effort between a 'master' and their binary bonded partner."

"You mean Arcana and Brainstorm are married?"

"No. That's a different kind of bonding, though if what I've heard about Nightbeat and his Nebulan partner Muzzle is correct…" Presser trailed off, letting the implications dangle in the air.

"So they can do that Conjunx thing with organic people?"

"Actually, no," said Presser as they came to futuristic door standing right in the middle of the path. "Given that sparks are basically made up of radioactive crystal, a normal human or Nebulan would likely suffer terminal radiation poisoning or be immolated if exposed to the laser core for even a brief time."

As they stopped before the door, Raoul looked at Presser. "But these 'master' types ain't got a problem, do they?"

"No," they said, the legion of demonic voices rattling the air. "In fact, we have created a process to allow a human to not only control a non-sentient transactor, but also actually become the very lifeforms you call a 'Transformer'. We call the 'Godmasters', as they retain certain unique properties only seen in human life that are amplified when combined with Cybertronian technologies."

"Did you do that to yourself?" asked Raoul. "That's why Magnus is making you do his dirty work, isn't it? It's punishment for breaking that stupid law."

Presser sighed. "No. Believe us, Magnus has nothing to do with this."

"So who's your commander?"

Laughed quietly, Presser shook their head. "Trust me, you'll found out soon enough. Though 'commander' isn't quite the right term… But let's go back to your question… No, I actually didn't do this to myself. The merger between the former Dr. Presser and what is called the Devil Zodiac occurred as the result of an attack on a research laboratory by a piece of garbage called Circuit Breaker. See, she took offense to the fact robots were an integral part of the team, so she decided the best solution was murdering everyone. And, despite reports to the contrary, the Insecticons only showed up after the place started caving in…"

"Oh shit… I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," said Presser with a shrug. "And while not one ourselves, we have created several Godmasters already and will create even more in the future."

"So what do I got to do to become one of them?" asked Raoul without a moments hesitation. "That's why you wanted to talk to me alone, ain't it? Well, if you're making me an offer, then I'm willing to take it. Just name your terms, man."

"We actually aren't," said Presser softly. "At least, not at this moment. We simply wish to make you aware that you have other options."

"Fuck the other options," said Raoul as all the pent up frustration suddenly burst free. "You said you can make me one of them! I've fucking had with being just some scared little 'squishy'. I want to be treated with some fucking respect for once! I want to be stronger…" He paused, laughing miserably. "I want the kind of power they got."

"What would you do for it?" boomed Presser, their voice cold and grim. "We aren't doing this shit for charity, you know. A price must be paid, Raoul. What will you sacrifice unto us to become like the gods?"

"Name it."

"What would you do for it?" Presser repeated.

"Anything!" shouted Raoul, feeling a desperate hopefulness suddenly. "I'd do anything!"

"Would you abandon your friends and family?" Presser asked. "You may never see them again."

Raoul shrugged. "…they'd understand."

"Would you fight for it?"

"Yeah. I'd fight."

"And would you kill?"

Raoul went silent as he thought it over.

"Would. You. Kill?" Presser said again when Raoul still hadn't answered.

The silence dragged on for several painful moments before Raoul whispered, "Yes."

Presser nodded sadly, asking in a gentler tone, "And would you die for it, Raoul?"

"Yes," he answered, still shocked by how deeply he meant it all.

Presser nodded again. "I see…"

"So will you?"

Patting him on the shoulder, Presser sighed. "We may soon do as you wish. But we ask that you think it over, boy. The process is irreversible and you'll basically be renouncing your humanity to do it."

"So what?" Raoul hissed. "Ain't like I'm getting anywhere being human."

"You say this now," said Presser. "But will you feel the same way when your older? Will you come to regret you choice as the years pass?"

"Am I even gonna live long enough to?"

Presser stared at him a moment, then shrugged. "Yeah, good point. But I'm serious… Think it over, please."

"Fine," Raoul said. "I'll think it over, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to still say 'yes' to being a Godmaster."

"You say this now, Raoul," said Presser, managing to whisper despite the deep chorus of their voice. "And this is why we must demand that you think the matter over carefully. We are duty-bound to allow you to choose your destiny freely. You should not make such a choice recklessly, lest you discover that this was not what you truly desired. We have known one who partook of our offer impulsively and regret their decision."

"Why? This sounds like a pretty sweet deal…"

"Joey Slick would not agree…" said Presser with a hellish coldness. "Slick was tricked into coming unto us and would have been killed if he refused. And even if we let him escaped, they would go after his friends until they caught him again. Slick was frightened and desperate to not only stay alive but keep them safe, so he choose to become a Godmaster. We did not wish to do it, but they didn't allow either of us to refuse…"

Raoul raised an eyebrow. "That… that don't sound like something the Autobots would do to a guy…"

Laughing darkly, Presser stepped back and gestured to the door. "It's time. You will soon meet our 'master'…"

Before Raoul could say anything, Presser vanished and everything dissolved into a hazy gray void like sand scattered by a strong wind. Only a small patch of gravel remain where Raoul and the door stood. He hesitated, looking at the door warily for a long time. Then he reached out his hand, pressing it against a panel on one side that he guessed was the handle and causing it to open with a hiss. There was only pure blackness on the other side, but Raoul took a deep breath and walked across the threshold.