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.

6. Stage 01-06: Infection

Note: Well, guess who just realized they'd been saying 'Transactor' instead of 'Transtector'. This will be 'corrected' from here on out if only because I don't plan to go back and revise at this time. Probably going to make some kind of in-story reason for it, but the nice thing about Transformers is most mistakes can become a 'feature'.

In the darkness, a smooth and arrogant male voice spoke but Raoul couldn't understand any of it since they were speaking that robot language. The was a sudden sharp tingling that burned through his brain for a long moment, but once it subsided he was shocked to find he suddenly understood him perfectly.

"Can you hear me?" they asked again with concern.

"Yeah…"

"Good!" the voice purred in a familiar tone. "I was beginning to worry. You're… you're voice sounds a bit… odd, though. Are you feeling okay?"

"Uh, yeah… I'm fine, Tracks…" Raoul said groggily, not able to open his eyes. "That is… is you, ain't it big guy?"

"Oh no, sweetie," said the voice with a giggle. "Tracks is my oldest son. My name is Knock-Out."

"Oh… uh, hi?" Feeling oddly numb all over, Raoul tried to sit up but noticed he couldn't. "Why can't I move? Or feel anything?"

"Your spark's in a containment unit," replied Knock-Out. "Which is currently sitting in a base on Earth while we build you a new body. Don't worry, though! We've almost finished. Just waiting for your new hands to reach Earth so we can install them. Which means there's plenty of time for me finalize the rest of your body design. That's why I didn't create a VR simulacra for you yet. I woke you up in 'limbo' mode to ask some questions, as I want your input on a few things for the redesign. I find it's best to let my clients have the final say in the process, as appearances do matter."

"Oh… okay?"

"Good. What colors would you like you chassis and accents to be?" he asked as an array of folders appeared. Then a series of labeled boxes appeared hanging in the void in front of him. "The most common livery has lately been shades of purple and green, but I've done my best to give you a better selection. Just drag and drop what you want onto the mannequin."

Confused and wondering if he was hungover, Raoul looked over the folders and noticed they had more Cybertronian writing on them appeared along with wire-frame image of a robot. But now he could read them, noticing they were basically various paint colors and finishes. He glanced over them, surprised he could open the folders with a thought and picked out a few to put them on the image. When he'd finally settled on a something that wasn't a neon nightmare, Raoul spoke again. "There. How's that?"

"Matte black chassis with matte gray body and white accents?" said Knock-Out with a little tutting noise. "I'd have thought you would want something more colorful. I know it was your old livery, but…"

"But what? I think it looks classy."

"Oh, this color scheme can be very classy especially in a high polish, but all matte finishes? That's a very outre, morbid look but I guess it's fitting for your profession. And they warned me that you had a sick sense of humor… Now, what are your gender preferences?"

"My what?" asked Raoul. "Like are you asking it I'm gay or straight?"

"No. I'm asking what your gender is. Orientation isn't quite the same as gender," hummed Knock-Out. "Though if you are into males, my youngest son is currently single and I love to see him with a responsible mech who's going places instead of the absolute putrescent pile of waste and sleaze that is Horri-Bull. Honestly! I cannot understand what the boy sees in that filth!"

Raoul felt a cringe at the absolute venomous way Knock-out spoke about that guys. "Eh… Well, I swing both ways. But I'll keep it in mind."

"Oh good! As soon as you're back on you feet, I'll be sure to introduce you to Needlenose" said Knock-Out cheerfully. "Now, back to the matter at hand: Do you consider yourself male, female, in between, nonbinary or neuter?"

"I'm male."

"Good. Next, what kind of unit do you want?"

"Unit…?"

"You know… the spike and valve?"

"Uh… the what?" asked Raoul, still feeling a bit fuzzy.

"…oh dear," said Knock-Out with another tut. "You must've taken quit the hit when you landed on Earth. It seems to have damaged your memory core."

"You're asking me if I want a dick, right?" he asked, recalling what Sideswipe had said. "Because yeah, I want to keep mine right were it belongs, thank you very fucking much!"

"I see you're from one of the less reputable sectors of Vos, so I'm going to presumed you'll want the standard masculine setup: one rod, one valve…" Knock-Out grumbled. "Which might explain some of the distortions with your vocals and definitely that accent."

"Hey, I like my accent! As for the spike thing… Well, it depends," said Raoul with a chuckle. "Can I get more that one spike?"

"Technically, yes," said Knock-Out, the disapproval clear in his voice. "But I can tell you it'll be basically useless since you can only use one at a time… unless your alt is some kind of reptilian creature. Personally, I'd say you're better off with a spike and a double valve array because you can use all them at once." He paused, then added in a hushed tone. "Tell you what: Swindle got in some 'snapper/ripper' packages. If you'd like, I think I can talk Hook into putting those in when he installs your unit."

"Really?" Raoul thought it over and, figuring he was having some kind of crazy, drug induced dream, came to a decision. "Okay. Give me that setup."

"Wonderful!" said Knock-Out. "It's always more fun to have them all. And I am so pleased you're keeping the spike! It would have been absolutely criminal to destroy such a big, lovely thing! Even the virtual mock-ups were beautiful!"

Raoul tensed, growling softly, "How do you know that?"

"It was in your tech specs, darling. I'd have thought you'd know that, but I guess the memory loss was worse than we thought. Don't worry, though. We'll do our best to fix that and one of the benefits of having you in a VR simulation is that you've got plenty of time to recover. I'll just put a note of it in you chart," cooed Knock-Out as everything went black again except for the now colored model. "Now, I just have a few more questions."

"About what? Want pictures of my dick?"

"Oh no! I already got some saved to the slideshow," Knock-Out said happily. "I just want a little more information about kibble you want."

"Kibble?"

"I'm talking about cosmetic features." Knock-Out made a little noise, like he was debating something, then added, "I think we might be able to do something about your voice, too."

"The voice is fine," snarled Raoul, confused at what he was even on about. "And that's just cosmetic, right?"

"Yes. I'm afraid Shockwave and Overlord have already decided on all your 'vital' components, either having them restored from your old body, built from scratch or, in the case of your hands, recently recycled from Trepan's mortal remains. Still, from what's in your psych profile, I'd say you're going to love the upgrades, especially the ones they tore out of Sunder. Which might explain the voice…" Knock-Out sighed melodramatically. "But what's the point of having all that tech if one can't look fabulous! Here, dear. This is the selection specifically for Ber'tone models with the Wedge type body."

A set of pictures for what looked to Raoul like futuristic car parts beside the image. Deciding just to roll with it, he browsed through the options and picked out some that he thought looked good, including a set of 'door wings' that seemed kind of cool. "There. That good?"

"Hmm… yes, that will do nicely," said Knock-Out as everything went dark again. "Now hang on a moment while I put in the codes… And done! You can open your eyes now, darling."

Cautiously, Raoul cracked them open, wincing at the bright lights before his vision cleared to reveal he was in some kind of futuristic operating room. And there was a handsome red robot and a grim looking green robot with a gray face and red visor staring down at him expectantly.

"Is your visual feed working all right, dear?" asked Knock-Out, a smile on his starkly white face.

"Yeah… I guess?"

"Amazing," said the other guy. "I'd have presumed he was blind given the unhealthy coloration of his optics."

"Oh, the boy can't help that, Hook!" Knock-Out said as he gently helped Raoul sit up. "Personally, I think they look rather charming."

Hook's frown deepened. "I surprised that you of all people would say such a thing. But maybe colonials just have very odd standards of beauty."

The smile on Knock-Out's face tightened in rage but he gave Raoul a reassuring pat on the back. "Please ignore my colleague. Hook's perfectionism is useful in the operating room but has done nothing for his bedside manners."

"I tried to fix it," said Hook with a huff of annoyance. "The rest of your team also has the exact same issue with their optics, but nothing I've attempted to do has changed them. I know that Overlord's optics have always been like that, but I didn't expect them to show up in every one of you as none of you share any master CNA to warrant such a thing. I did my best, but there's no way to correct your optic color. They even reject universal lens films. But, if you'd prefer not to look like a freak, I've taken the liberty of installing a drop-down visor in your helmet while I was installing your faceplate."

Knock-Out glared at Hook. "He does not look like a 'freak'. In fact, I'd say he's one of the best looking mechs I've seen… besides myself, of course."

"What are you guys talking about?" asked Raoul as he got to his feet, swaying but managing to stay standing.

Knock-Out frowned slightly. "Well, we might need to do some more work on your vocalizer. Maybe swap it out for something less…uh, abrasive."

"Look," hissed Hook as he glared at Knock-Out. "He needed a whole new vocal unit rig any away and Sunder was already there so we took it out, made some adjustments so he'd be intelligible at least, and installed it. Starscream approved, as he felt the boy would benefit from it. Besides, Scrapper was sick of listening to Sunder's whinging."

"Oh," muttered Knock-Out dryly. "So that's what all the shouting and screaming was about earlier. I knew Scrapper and your brothers are low-class, but I've never heard such language in my entire life!"

"Seriously, what the hell is going on?" asked Raoul, interrupting in an ugly croak.

"I think it's easier if we just showed you," said Hook as he steered Raoul towards a mirrored panel on the wall. He let go when he noticed Raoul's steps were finally steady.

The reflection staring back was not Raoul, but a black and dull gray robot with some stark white accents and a black and white helmet. They had a body that resembled Sideswipe and Sunstreaker but with a slimmer, more sculpted build and the door wings in the back. It looked powerful yet sleek, more like a professional dancer's body than a bodybuilder's. Raoul absentmindedly tried to move a wing and was surprised to see the reflections respond too. He turned to get a look at his back and the reflection turned with him. Raoul was a bit confused to see that whoever made this body had taken just as much time to make sure the rear view was as good as the front, though he was a bit annoyed that they'd taken even greater pains to give him the kind of firm and perky ass that models would kill for.

"That was my idea," said Hook, not even hiding that he was inspecting his work. "I figure that if I couldn't fix the eyes, than the least I could do everything I could to distract them from your face. And who knows! Maybe having a pretty boy in the med bay might actually get those fraggers in there for routine maintenance…"

"That and you're a medic," added Knock-Out with a huge grin as he joined in the inspecting. "You're going to be bent over things a lot, so we your colleagues might as well have a nice view."

"Medic?" Raoul asked in confusion.

Knock-Out and Hook shared a look, then Knock-Out repeated, "You're a medic. You're trained in the construction and repair of mechanical life, though you have had some training in repairing organics as well."

"Mechanic." Raoul said the word sharply, feeling anxious. "I worked as a mechanic, but I… I ain't never been a doctor."

The other two shared another look. Then, halting Knock-Out from approaching and speaking, Hook said firmly, "Tell me, how much do you recall before we brought you back online? Do you remember what happened? Anything about the accident? Your life before…?"

"Before what?"

"Before the Autobots got hold of you?"

Raoul stammered for a few moments, thinking back on his life but feeling strangely disconnected from it. It all felt like a dream now, a strange nightmare that he couldn't quite put to words. Raoul struggled to explain then angrily shook his head and turned back to his reflection. "I don't know! I… Let me figure this out first!"

"All right," said Hook, giving Knock-Out a sidelong look. "Take as much time as you need…"

Raoul stared at the reflection, studying it closely as if it had to all the answers. It had his face, but it seemed more… mature. This face was still young, but of a very handsome man hardened by age. The only thing that marred that face was a thin scar from just before one side of his helm to other that gave him a creepy permanent smile that was broken by tiny white staples neatly spaced like pairs of tiny fangs. There was another line with staples cutting through his bottom lip and down to were his jaw just met his neck. He looked back up at the helmet, noting that it had been designed to given him stylized horns on white brim that reminded him of the stereotypical devil. It's been comical if not for those eyes. Those eyes that stared back glowed white with a cold, blue tint from the flat gray features, matching the glow from his mouth when his lips parted, making it easy to see the long, razor like fangs that filled his mouth. He reached out to touch the mirror but stopped when he saw his hands weren't human any more but were mechanical gloves with claws.

Staring at them, Raoul cautiously rubbing his fingertips together. It shocked him how sensitive they were, a touch that was even more sensitive than his own bare, callused hands. As he touched the plates on his arm, Raoul noticed that not the gloves were so sensitive that he could even detect the minute textures of paint and sensor on the apparently smooth surface but also feel his fingers touching the surface like it was bare skin too. He tried to reason it away that the gloves had some kind of gimmick that made them like that, but there was nothing he think of that could do that. He tried to pull the gloves off to inspect them more closely, only to find out that they were attached to the armor he was in.

Giving up on that, he studied them more closely and noticed odd tubes on each claw connecting to his wrists by wires. He felt a nearly orgasmic jolt when he lightly touched one. Curious, Raoul flexed his fingers a few times. When he stretched them out one last time, thin needles shot out and he forced himself not to make a very embarrassing groan. He looked at them, feeling an intense urge to sink them deep into… into something. "What are these?"

"Finger-needles," said Hook, watching him cautiously as if expecting him to attack. "You had them installed while at the Academy."

"What?"

Stepping between him and Knock-Out, then Hook said, "Don't you remember? You didn't just train solely for a medical career, but also in psychology. You even went into cerebreoscience, which is a very specialized field. To be honest, I am surprised someone of your class was even allowed to study at the Institute at all let alone excel in such a difficult profession as you have. It takes quite a lot of skill and dedication to be a mnemosurgeon, Hellrider."

"That's not my name!" Raoul snapped, then he noticed that they both had the Decepticon logo on them… and so did he. Before he could do anything else, the door opened and a huge purple robot cyclops walked in followed by an even more massive steel blue guy who was smiling happily.

"I see you are finally awake, Hellrider!" boomed the giant guy, clapping a massive hand on Raoul's shoulder and nearly knocking him over. The guy also had dead, bluish white eyes and an overly polite serial killer vibe. "We were starting to worry about you."

"My name's not Hellrider," Raoul said weakly as he started to back away from them and glanced around for another exit. "What the fuck is going on?"

"The solution is quite clear, Hellrider," said the cyclops in a voice that was mechanical and frigid even for a robot. "Before I sent you and your team to Earth to infiltrate the Autobots as deep-cover agents, I had you perform shadowplays on your teammates and yourself to maintain your cover identities until a trigger code was given. Unfortunately, your ship was shot down while you were doing the procedure on yourself, causing severe damage to your memory core. Your body suffered even greater damage, putting you into stasis. Then you were discovered by the Autobots' human allies and they took advantage of your state to implant false memories to make you believe you were a human to keep you calm while they attempted to recover the data and find out more about your mission. They have recently brought their own mnemosurgeon to Earth in order to interrogate you while convincing you that you have always been an Autobot with shadowplay and other methods. They might possibly even seek to turn you into a double-agent. It would be perfectly logical to do so, as you were trained in espionage and part of our side. And, as an expendable asset, you would be more easy to discard and/or eliminate than a fellow Autobot should they need to do so."

"Bullshit!" Raoul snapped. "The Autobots would—"

"…never do such things?" said the cyclops. "I am uncertain as to how serious the damage has been to your memory, but I suggest you try recalling the Institute… I am sure you do remember the Institute. You were one of the leading specialists in performing empurata."

"Empurata?"

"An unpleasant procedure that involves the removal of a subjects head and hands, replacing them with a mono-optical cranium and claws. Often the procedure is also combined with shadowplay to make the subject a more functional member of society. Sometimes, they will be kind enough to equip the subject with a tool such as a multi-beam drill to better integrate them into their new roles as miners or other menial labor." He held up the stub that ended in a small gun barrel so Raoul could get a good look at it. "Which is exactly what I was subjected to by my fellow Senators for being… kind."

Raoul winced in sympathy. "Oh fuck… I'm sorry…"

The cyclops just shrugged, giving him a couple of tiny pats with his normal hand in a way that made Raoul wonder if this guy understood concepts like 'affection' and 'friendliness'. "Do not be concerned. It happened long ago and you did not do this. And even if you had, I would still not blame you, Hellrider. Have I not always told you: There is nothing wrong with ambition."

"What are…?" Raoul began to argue, then the tingling returned as that phrase started banging around his mind, dredging up memories that had been buried in its depths. His mind burned in piercing pain as they came back to the surface, causing him stumble against the mirror to keep from hitting the floor. A lifetime flashed through his mind's eye compressed into mere seconds.

He could remember the stroke of luck that lead to him meeting with Senator Shockwave after a botched robbery that lead to him being remanded to the senator's custody. When Shockwave had noticed Hellrider's drive to make something more of himself than just a thief and low class punk, he'd gone out of his way to help his newest charge attain this goal, teaching him an important motto to remember whenever his 'betters' tried to put him down: 'There is nothing wrong with ambition'. This patronage eventually lead to him becoming a student at the Protihex Medical Mechanics University. Then the apprenticeship at the Institute to become a cerebroscientist and later completed his training as a mnemosurgeon. This lead to a job working at the Institute to 're-educate' dissidents, first for the Senate and later for the more 'enlightened' Autobots when it became the 'New' Institute. It left him deeply disgusted with himself and filled with hatred for his superiors since so many of his 'patients' had been like him: angry youths in bad situations and denied any help or a chance at better lives for too many stupid reasons. And he was working for the very bastards that had mutilated his friend Shockwave and were content to see the society that allowed such atrocities to continue flourishing.

It broke him.

And when Shockwave came back into his life to offer him a chance for something better and Hellrider had been happy to accept. He'd served the Decepticons loyally since the war began, quietly making a place for himself as one of Shockwave's 'faceless' assistants and working as a combat medic. It wasn't glamorous but Hellrider actually liked the anonymity since it made it easier gain more power without having to worry that there was a target on one's back. He'd craved the power his old mentor had but knew that being patient and continuing to quietly work hard would be prove more effective in the long run. The path to power was a marathon, not a sprint. It was by being wise enough to play the long game as your rivals killed themselves off chasing easy gains and your superiors step down or fell from their lofty positions. It paid to be useful and make sure that you would become a 'worthy successor' when the time came. This state of affairs would be ideal in his opinion, since it was wiser to keep the old bastards around because they often hoarded valuable information, but Hellrider wasn't bothered by the idea of making such retirements permanent if he had to. And if that meant one day killing Shockwave himself to usurp his place, but Hellrider was sure he'd understand. After all, there is nothing wrong with ambition.

Then came the day they had called upon him to join a group of agents to go deep undercover as Autobots. Hellrider had expressed some reservations when they came to the part that involved using shadowplay to suppress their memories until a trigger phase was stated but Shockwave eventually convinced him that it was necessary. Hellrider had even chosen 'There is nothing wrong with ambition' as the trigger to restore their memories, guessing that none of the Autobots would be able to figure it out by accident since they think such an idea was too self-serving.

His last memory was starting to shadowplay himself after securing his unconscious and newly rendered amnesiac comrades. Hellrider had been chanting the trigger over and over to himself to make sure it took as began locking his memories away. If only the Autobots hadn't noticed their ship and decided to take the 'shoot first, ask question later' approach. He'd tried to complete the procedure as the ship screamed in agony, crash landing on that Primus forsaken planet named 'Earth'.

"Are you all right?" asked Shockwave as they all watched him closely.

"…fine," said Hellrider as he straightened up with a shaky smile. "Though I would like permission to say 'I told you so', sir."

"Ha. Ha." said Shockwave as he gave Hellrider a few thumps on the shoulder again. "As it may take some time for you to fully get back to yourself, I have had Soundwave put you into this VR world so you can have time to recover. We have made a fork of the standard simulation of Cybertron in its pre-war state and are limiting your interaction with others to a selected group to prevent over-stimulation that might trigger a regression back into the false memories the Autobots gave you. I want to you to be aware, however, that these precautions are not a guarantee that you will not have episodes. In fact, we are certain you will still have intrusive thoughts and moments where you fully believe yourself to be a human, but these are only to be expected given how thorough you were suppressing your own memories. It will take you quite some time to fully recover but I expect you to not be idle during this period. Therefore, I have taken the liberty of creating deep learning courses for you to refresh your skills and get caught up with the most current medical practices. Perhaps the distraction will help speed up your recovery."

"Thank you, sir."

"And you are also to start training with Firefly once Bombshell clears you as mental stable enough to endure such intense training. Firefly is a marital artist and saboteur who will be instructing you in espionage, demolitions, and 'wetwork' techniques," Shockwave droned, turning and walking into the hall.

"Excuse me?" asked Hellrider as he brushed past Overlord to follow Shockwave, trying to recall who those guys even were and only vaguely recalling something about Insecticons. "Who's that?"

"Greetings, my delicious friend," said a gleeful voice from the tiny helmed horror that had just appeared at Hellrider's elbow. "I am Bombshell, and I will not only be your therapist but also the one instructing you in your refresher courses. Because I happen to be both a fellow medic and highly trained cerebroscientist in addition to being a psychologist. All of which I noticed was yet again overlooked."

"It was omitted for the sake of brevity," said Shockwave as he took out a datapad and kept walking briskly without seeming to care they were almost running to keep up with him. "As you perfectly capable of stating your qualifications to Hellrider, I did not feel it was necessary."

"And yet you mention Firefly's, sir?" said Bombshell, still chipper but there was a frightening edge to his tone. "Who transforms into a helicopter, not an actual firefly."

"That is because Firefly has only recently joined the cause and I know that Hellrider has not previously met him. I believe he may already have encountered you prior to this cycle, Bombshell."

"Really? Sure it's not because I turn into a bug?"

Shockwave let out the tiniest of huffs as he stopped and turned to them. "I am literally the last mech to bother wasting my precious time indulging in such foolishness. And I have no time for those who will think so small."

Hellrider laughed. "I think that's a dismissal, Bombshell."

"Correct. I am glad to see you are starting to behave as you are supposed to. Now, good day." Shockwave's voice droned as he turned and carried on his way, leaving the two of them staring after him.

"So, what's first, buggy buddy?" asked Hellrider with a smile.

"First, oh tasty boy, we are going to try to teach you some fucking manners," hissed Bombshell as he lead Hellrider down a side hall. "Then, I'll give you an assessment and, depending on what I find and whether or not you're even still conscious, we'll start working on filling in the gaps in your memory. And maybe do something about that fucked up vocalizer, too…"

"Why, sir?"

"Reminds me too much of my third husband."

"Messy divorce, sir?"

"Oh no," hummed Bombshell pleasantly. "That was pretty amicable. It's just that there was a bit of nastiness when the court appointed mediator came over to ensure all our joint property was distributed properly and recognized a few of Sunder's specimens as being from various missing persons. Real pain in the aft having them investigate and find the rest of the bodies too. I managed to stall the cops long enough to give him a good head start, seeing how Sunder had been good enough to also take the blame for my messy eating habits. But that's all literally dead and buried in the past. Now come along, boy! We have much to do…"

"Yes, sir."

And began the slow process of Hellrider rebuilding his life and mind. He found it easy to relearn the skills he'd formerly known, even earning some grudging compliments for Bombshell as he proved to be an excellent student. But that might have been because the Insecticon learned Hellrider had similarly monstrous eating habits. There were some issues learning martial arts from Firefly, who was stingy with anything but criticism and disturbingly generous in dishing out as much abuse as possible. About the only thing Firefly ever praised Hellrider for was his talent at breaking and entering, openly complimenting his abilities to swiftly 'extract' valuables and cleanly escape with them under a variety of situations. But Hellrider was starting to finally make some headway under the sadistic tutelage of Firefly, now managing to not to 'die' every session with the bastard, even earning the odd pet name of 'Car Thief' from the military model.

During whatever down time he had, Hellrider found himself going through the extensive archives Shockwave had collected to learn (or what that re-learn) as much as he could about Cybertron. It would have been easier if access hadn't been at the whim of some little pencil-dick nerd who had developed some kind of beef with him for no reason, but there were benefits to having Shockwave's favor… and his passwords. And so the cycles turned to kilocycles then to vorns and might have even blurred into megacycles as Hellrider continued his rehabilitation. His recovery was going very well… except for one little thing.

There were moments when Hellrider would suddenly find himself believing he was a human, like Shockwave had predicted. He recognized this as a side effect both of an improperly done shadowplay and the tampering by the Autobots after they found him. The delusion had been worse in the beginning, when he'd often have episodes when he'd insist he was 'Raoul' and keep claiming this was all just a dream. Granted, that was kind of what virtual reality was, but Hellrider knew that the real problem was how pernicious the Autobots attempt to use the failed shadowplay to trick him into believing he was actually just a human had been. It took a long time for him to get control of it enough that the delusion was just an annoyance, yet it still persisted. Not that he minded the parts with Tracks, but the extent to which this delusion had seeped into his psyche was just disturbing.

Besides, in Hellrider's own opinion, Raoul was kind of pathetic little bitch. Always whining and freaking out about every little thing, whipping himself into such a miserable state that even Firefly would feel sorry for the insignificant little turd whenever he came out. Unfortunately, Raoul was also persistent. Hellrider had managed to figure out how to beat it down to just a nagging voice in his head normally, but he would still sometimes see himself as that worthless human when he looked in reflective surfaces.

Like that very moment, as he stared down the human boy in the mirror after another cycle of being Firefly's punching bag. Hellrider frowned and so the did the human, making him growl softly, "This ain't real…"

"You're right," said a deep, terrible voice like the legions of the Pit. "This isn't real. All desire is illusion holding us in suffering. And suffering is true hell."

Hellrider blinked as he jerked back and looked around for the source of the voice. Then he looked back at the mirror and saw Presser standing there just behind the human boy, still in the Japanese mask that looked like a doll's face framed by dripping black hair and an equally damp white robe like a patient, if waterlogged, ghost. He stared for a long moment, noticing that from behind the little gold grommets of the mask's eyes, Presser's own glowed bluish white like his did. He stared, then said softly, "You are not real. You cannot be real."

Presser sighed, revealing through the thin slit in the mask that their mouth also glowed neon blue like his did when he spoke. "We will refrain from discussing the existential question of how to define 'reality' and just get straight to the point: They're fucking gaslighting you, Raoul. They're trying to convince you that you've always been a Decepticon by trapping you in this illusion. They know you desire to be as they are, so they're using it against you. They are trying to take away your freedom to choose what path you will follow for their own gain. Be not deceived. This is hell is of your own making, Raoul. You must make your own choices."

"Hell?" he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You think this is hell? Bullshit! I've never been happier in my whole life! What the fuck do you know about hell?"

"I was raised Buddhist," Presser said calmly, tilting their head to make it seem like their mask was 'smiling'. "We have a lot of hells. And I personally know a lot about them as my mother was fond of beating it into my head that I'd be going to each and every single one for not being the son her family wanted. We know of illusion as well, as it keeps one from achieving the enlightenment to gain Nirvana. Deception begets want which begets desire and desire is how we lose our way… Do you honestly believe you are a Cybertronian? Did you really think you finally have what you secretly desired? You longed to be powerful and special, haven't you Raoul? You've always wanted to be someone great… somebody important, haven't you Raoul?"

"Yes! And I am!" he said softly, glaring at the human boy who glared back at him just as hatefully. "My name is Hellrider. And you do not exist."

"I can't force you to listen, Raoul," said Presser in a tired tone, moving their head to look 'sad'. "But we are real. You have heard of the Devil Zodiac, have you not?"

Hellrider stayed silent, unwilling to humor his delusions again. He was bit unnerved by the mention of the Devil Zodiac, but chalked it up to a symptom of impending burnout from his intensive studying lately.

"We know you have, Raoul. Overlord has spoken of us. He told you how we fused him body and soul to Giga and Mega to save his miserable life," said Presser, cocking their head to one side to create a smug expression. "Shockwave and Bombshell have also spoken of us, as have the few others you are allowed to see. And we know Firefly talks at length about us."

"He rarely has anything nice to say," Hellrider grumbled, fumbling for the packet of cygars but not breaking eye contact with his human reflection. "But this proves nothing, because I'm talking to a figment of my imagination. You're the personification of my delusions and anxieties. Just a mouthpiece!"

"Of course I am," said Presser. "As you shall likely soon be ours. But what can it hurt to humor us a little? This is literally all in your head."

He thought a moment, taking a hit off the cygar before reluctantly saying, "Fine! Do what ever the fuck do you want."
"We shall. Starting with what is about to happen," said Presser in a quiet tone. "First, after we get done with this little chat, you are going decide that you need to think over what we are going to show you before we leave you. So you will call up Shockwave to request some time off for break to 'clear your head'. And they are going to have Bombshell to make an assessment that your fit to do so. Which, of course, he's going to say you are since Soundwave's finally noticed we infiltrated the simulation and have been one of those who keep reminding you that you're a human."

"And why would he care?"

"Well, we'd like to say that it's just because he's very hands on and this is all part of his revenge against you personally, but let me be honest here: You're a very pretty young man. In fact, by Cybertronian standards, you could have been a super-model. And that's even before Knock-Out and Hook made you a robot. No joke. You have to the potential to be very attractive as a human if you cleaned yourself up, gained some weight and put on more muscle. And I say this as someone who's never been attracted to men…" Presser chuckled darkly as their head moved to match with a cruel expression. "And, as vindictive as Soundwave is, he knows that seducing you the 'dark side' in every sense of the term would truly hurt not only Tracks, but Jazz and Blaster too. He wants to give you every incentive to keep drinking the Decepticon Kool-Aid till it drowns you… There's also the little fact that Soundwave is into younger men and he ain't blind…"

"So what about Megs? Is Soundwave fucking the big boss to keep his job or does he just love to piss Screamer off?"

Presser let out a small laugh. "Megatron's barely a quarter of Soundwave's age. Theirs is a union of both mutual convenience and pleasure."

"Classy…" Hellrider hissed. "And what makes you think the creeper's going to try that shit? I'm under the impression him and Shockwave aren't exactly on speaking terms right now."

"Shockwave's keen on seeing the result of this little experiment," said Presser mildly. "He's willing to put his grudge with Soundwave on the back burner for the moment just to test if it's really possible to make a human allied with the Autobots into a loyal Decepticon. And the results so far have greatly exceeded his predictions."

"Right…" Hellrider killed the cygar and sparked another. "Okay. Let's say I believe you, my paranoid ramblings. So when will Soundwave strike?"

Presser's head titled to look like they were smiling again as they laughed. "Once they clear you to take some leave, you will take a drive through this model of Cybertron. You will notice that while much of the planet is in it's pre-war state, there's no people. If you ask Shockwave, he will claim this was to prevent you from getting 'over stimulated', but that's a lie. Nothing they're doing is for your benefit, Raoul. This is to keep you cut off from anyone isn't either in on the gaslighting or already convinced you're Cybertronian."

"Funny," said Hellrider. "Needlenose seems to go out of his way to tell me that I'm just a 'nasty piece of organic trash in cheap armor'."

"His intrusion was not planned for," Presser said. "Well, not by Shockwave or Soundwave. Needlenose had help from Starscream, since the commander wanted to test to see how effective the brainwashing has been. He wanted to see if you could 'pass', and has been quite pleased to see that you now identify as 'Hellrider'. But Starscream was forced to stop 'meddling' by Shockwave when you politely asked about why your access was being restricted. Their overall goal is to keep you from coming into contact with anyone who might cause you to question the backstory they fabricated for you. Needlenose has continually brought up the fact that not only are there no records of you prior to about an Earth year ago but nobody else he's spoken with remembers you and can confirm the backstory they gave about you. You see, to help the illusion, they've been careful to minimize the details of your 'history' by making you an 'introverted loner' with few close friends. But, as Needlenose keeps telling you (as well as being a textbook example himself…), even loners get noticed, especially if they're a medic of a faction that has barely any…"

"Maybe it's because none of the slaggers actually step foot in the medbay until they're unconscious or half-dead…"

"True, but that doesn't really explain all the gaps in your memories, Raoul," said Presser with a delicate tilt of the head, causing droplets of water to slip down their cheek like tears. "I'm sure you notice the lack of social connections in your past with anyone other than Shockwave, haven't you? Who your family and friends were? Remember your first love? Do you recall how you lost your virginity? Can you even recall your previous lovers? Or the streets of your city? The taste of food from a vending cart? A bottle of ice cold beer? Or the music? Remember when you used to dance, Raoul?"

"So what?" Hellrider said as he tried to hide his growing anxiety in bravado. "If I can't recall all that shit, it doesn't mean anything! It's all a side effect of fucking around in my own memory banks. Besides, I ain't the type who likes standing out too much."

"Of course you aren't…" hummed Presser with a buzz of sarcasm, then they continued in a polite drone. "You will spend quite a while driving around, but your journey will go as follows: First, you travel from Shockwave's Tower through the Processional Avenue of Iacon and you will look into you databanks for something play for your little 'road trip'. Soundwave will be 'kind' enough to share his collection with you, a digital mix-tape of Earthly and Cybertronian musics chosen specifically to appeal to your tastes. You will notice a growing sense of nostalgia hearing the songs of Earth as you reach the city limits and merge onto the Grand Way. I will also pepper in random metal songs and maybe some weirder stuff to signal when we have made progress in freeing you of this delusion. I won't be able to talk to you directly after we get kicked off the main server."

"Why?" asked Hellrider.

"Because it amuses us," snickered Presser as they sidestepped giving him the answer he actually wanted. "We will let you pick which one you wish to make the exit trigger. So choose what you'd like."

A list appeared on the mirror, a text scroll of vivid red yet otherwise plain font that listed various bands and songs. It startled Hellrider a moment but then he remembered that this was a 'smart' mirror and had a display function integrated into it's surface. Figuring it would be easier just to humor his delusion, he glanced over it and noticed he vaguely recognized most of the bands but couldn't place when or where he'd heard them. He also noticed that there was somebody called 'Weird Al' included and he could have sworn that guy had to be a Junkion or something…
"How about this one?" he said, tapping a claw on the selected song.

"Mercyful Fate's 'Corpse Without Soul'?" Presser said with a little hum of amusement. "And why this one?"

Hellrider laughed with a shrug. "Well, you keep telling me this is hell, so why the fuck not?"

Presser giggled, pleased at the response. "A fitting choice, given the situation. Now, let us go back to your travel plans…"

"Yeah," said Hellrider. "I figure I'll have a destination in mind. Like maybe go to Vos, kick around the 'hood and see if that helps."

"And you shall do precisely that," Presser said with a nod. "You travel along the Grand Way till you reach the Dancing Bridge."

"The what?"

"The Dancing Bridge," repeated Presser. "It's a famous landmark and the most direct rout from Iacon to Vos. But it's also one of the least popular ways to travel for normal ground traffic. But the bridge was never designed to be a major thruway. It was geared towards thrill-seekers as a challenge to overcome due it's unusual and dangerous nature. You will briefly pause when there since you will think that the bridge is out due to all the warning signs, but find that it is perfectly safe to cross… once you figure out the trick, that is. Then you continue on into Vos and 'kick around the 'hood' as you try to locate your former home or any other familiar landmarks in the vain hope that it'll jog your memory. You'll seek anything that might remind you of your past but won't find it there, since you are a human from New York City, not a Decepticon from Vos."

Presser paused, head tilted thoughtfully a moment, then said, "A very, very easy mistake to make, I assure you. But getting back on track: When you finally give up in frustration, you shall decided to head to Praxus by going back towards Iacon to get on the Tri-Torus Loop and cruise into the city. While at Praxus, you will go to the Helix Gardens where you will notice someone has been following you. But it's only while you're dancing along the Plaza of Lights that Soundwave will directly contact you. From then on…" Presser just shrugged. "Well, from there you're on your own."

Hellrider arched an optic ridge. "Really? That's it? No advice on how to protect my precious virtues from the Big Bad Soundwave?"

"Raoul, even a passing glance at your medical records proves you got rid of that bullshit years ago… As it stands, we've already pushed our luck far further than we should have. And, given the stunts we are about to pull, we shall be unable to directly help you," said Presser coldly. "We cannot do more than what we have already done for you. Because the only one who can make this decision is you, Raoul. No one else can do it for you. They will do everything possible to convince you to choose what they want to make you no matter what you wish. Do not let them trick you. For good or evil, you must choose to the path you will take of your own free will."

"I like how fucking cryptic and mysterious you're being," said Hellrider with a hefty dose of sarcasm. "Beats how these hallucinations usually go. It's usually just staring silently at what I guess is supposed to be me as a human. However, this? Well, call me crazy, but I kind of like finally talking to my insanity for a change…"

Presser just sighed. "Fine. Be a dick, then. We are trying to be nice, you know?"

"Then just tell me the truth!"

"Then just fucking listen!" Presser snarled back, their presence swelling in fury that seemed to fill the whole room despite being barely the size of a minibot. "We have given you sign after sign after sign… You stare straight in the face of reality, Raoul, yet you choose the lie they have made for you."

"No! This is all just a delusion!"

"We are no delusion, Raoul," hissed Presser, frustration rumbling in their voice but calmer now. "We keep trying to tell you the truth, you would keep refusing to believe no matter what we tell you. Because you want this to be real, Raoul. They offer you everything you long for. You cling so tightly to the lies and falsehoods they feed you because this is all that you desire. But desire is suffering, Raoul. And suffering is hell. You are not insane. What you see before you is this truth and that this…" They gestured broadly at the room. "This is nothing more than an illusion."

"Then prove it," Hellrider snapped back.

"Are you certain you wish to know?"

He glared back. "Yeah. I want to know. Now show me, little ghost. Show me your truth."

"Very well…" Presser made another wide gesture, making a faint afterimages as they slowly danced. As their hands cut graceful arches in the air, they droned softly in a sing-song way, "And I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals, and I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying…"

The whole room to explode in blue-white flames and shattered pieces. As the last piece fell away into the void, leaving only Presser and Hellrider floating there. The small masked monster held out a golden hand.

"Come and see."

"…Revelations?" said Hellrider, wincing at the sudden intrusion of what might have been a memory. "You're… you're quoting Revelations, aren't you?"

"Are we not the 'devil'?" droned Presser. "And can not the Devil quote scripture for his purposes?"

"Now your doing Shakespeare?" Hellrider growled, trying to hide his growing fear and the sudden, strange pain in his head. "And you pick the one where they rob a Jewish business owner of everything he had, including his only child and his faith? Damn, that's just nasty…"

"What do you know of Shakespeare?"

"My mom used to take me along with her to rehearsals when I was little whenever my abuela was too sick to watch me. See, she really couldn't afford a babysitter and my uncle's girlfriend at the time was… uh, well, that woman was not a very nice person, so mom…"

"Didn't want you around that woman, right?" asked Presser.

"That's an understatement. See, the one and only time she let my uncle watch me while he was with that woman, the bitch locked me in a closet as soon as he went to work and left to do God knows what. Mom came by to pick me up before my uncle or the bitch got back, let herself in with the spare key, and found me." He paused, laughed coldly. "To make a long story short, we waited for them to get back, then mom asked Uncle Mitch to take me to get some sandwiches so she could 'talk' to the bitch. The police were already there by the time we got back and it took two cops to pull mom off her. The bitch didn't press charges cause they caught her holding a couple of vials and a pipe when it went down and I, uh… found her stash in the closet and thought it'd be a great idea to tell the cops about it. I didn't see Uncle Mitch for over a year until he walked in on the bitch screwing yet another 'friend' of his and finally left her."

Presser tilted their head curiously. "Glad to have confirmation that I am not alone in having a hilariously fucked up childhood. But your mother loved you very much, didn't she?"

"Yeah. We were really close. And… well, I hate to admit it, but I was a mom's boy when she was alive. Still am, to be honest…"

"And what was she like? Was your mother beautiful?"

"Of course! Mom was pretty enough to get steady work modeling and doing a bit of acting. And she was a really good dancer. Good enough to pay the bills. She never got the chance to make it big, but I remember her agent kept saying she had the drive to do it. Then again, Eric talks a big game about all his clients but he's kick-started a lot careers so I guess he knows what he's talking about."

"Eric?" asked Presser. "Huh… This wouldn't be Eric Raymond, would it?"

"Yeah, that was Eric…" Hellrider sighed with a little smile. "We lost touch after my abuela died and I got shipped off to my dad's. Last I heard, he's running a company now and has two big name pop acts signed on, so I guess all his bullshit actually meant something. Mom took me along to his office a lot when she go see him about jobs…" He paused, frowning slightly as something finally clicked. "Actually, I saw a lot of Eric back then since visited our place all the time and would take mom out often. She got along with him really well… until Eric started talking about me getting in show biz too. See, when I was three, a buddy of his said I'd be 'perfect' for this minor role in a soap opera. Mom was so pissed off when the guy said it was cause I looked 'black, but not too black' so they could easily pass me off as the 'love child' of their lead actress and the show's token black guy."

Presser tilted their head with a little huff, giving them the appearance of a slight smile. "That sounds like a story-line from As the Kitchen Sinks. To be precise, that would be the one that introduced 'Alex Washington', Donna Steele's illegitimate son with Gordon Washington, and set off the horribly convoluted plot that finally settled the long-running romantic rivalry between Donna and her younger step-daughter Katy over Dr. Jack Meadows ending with Jack and Katy finally marrying after they prove Robert 'Big Bob' Steele's will had been stolen and a fake forged by Big Bob's bitter ex-mistress Sheryl to cut Katy out completely in favor of her own son Bobby Jr. and clear Donna's name after Sheryl set her up to take the fall for the crimes." They shifted to make the shadows give the mask an embarrassed look. "Or so I've heard…"

"That's the one."

"Pity your mother didn't let you do it," said Presser. "That ended up making the kid that played Alex not only a permanent fixture on the show but also lead to him having a very lucrative acting career now."

"Yeah, in gigs that call for an Oreo or the pretty boy from the ghetto who becomes some kind of artist or some other 'inspirational' bullshit like that who ends up either tragically dying or hooking up with the white leading lady's 'sassy' friend."

"Oreo?"

"Black on the outside, white on the inside," explained Hellrider. "Which is exactly what Phil Fisher is, to be honest. I used to go to Sunday school with that guy. Phil was an annoying little geek and a suck-up. But he ain't never been stuck up, is a nice guy, and always makes time to come back home to see his family often."

"I take it this was the only kind of role you mother was offered, right?"

"Yeah. If she wasn't the 'tragic and passive Latina' who only existed to fall for a white guy then die or suffer some other horrible fate, she was the 'sassy black gal pal' or the 'ambiguous urban girl' or other shit like that…" He sighed, vents rattling. "Mom hated that. She did it to keep food on the table and pay bills, but she really wanted to be taken seriously as a performer. Which was never going to happen 'cause all the directors and producers kept saying she wasn't white enough to be cast as anything but one of the supporting cast. Believe me, I overheard them tell her some pretty ugly shit over things like her hair being 'too kinky' or how she needed to see a plastic surgeon about getting 'lightening' treatments. I watched her take an iron to her hair several times to 'smooth' it out and use all kinds of other shit to look more 'white'. Worse was when they'd tell her that she was too fat and that 'real' actress can't be so 'heavy'. That really bothered her… I remember mom was always on one diet or another all the time…"

"Your mother skipped a lot of meals, didn't she? And not just due to poverty…"

Hellrider nodded hesitantly, oddly glad to have a sympathetic ear as the memories of his mother came bubbling to the surface. "I was little, but I remember mom would almost never eat and was taking this 'diet' pills her constantly because the agent she had before Eric demanded that she quickly lose the 'baby weight' and then keep below a certain weight. My abuela kept trying to get her to stop it, but mom kept saying she had to do to get any work. So my abuela went behind her back and got mom signed to Eric's agency. They wound up becoming friends and I've just realized that they started dating soon after that. But Eric was actually a pretty decent guy underneath all the sleaze and crazy stunts. He was always encouraging my mom to ignore it when she got told she was 'too fat' or any of the other shit because she was fine. She must've took his advice to heart, because that's the happiest and healthiest I'd ever seen my mom. She even stopped throwing up all the time…"

"You're mother had an eating disorder," said Presser in a tone that made it hard to tell if that had been a question or a statement.

"No," Hellrider snapped, bristling at the implications. "It was mostly her nerves and those stupid pills really bothered her stomach, okay?"

"But her 'nerves' got better after meeting Eric, didn't they?"

"Yeah. Even after the breakup, she kept it up for awhile. My aunts even quit making snide comments about her being so 'bony'…" Hellrider laughed bitterly. "Then she got a call saying she'd gotten the role as Maria in a production of West Side Story. The director and producer kept saying how talented she was and how she was perfect for the part… except for her weight. They demanded that mom lose a lot of weight fast because they couldn't have a 'fat cow' as Maria. That's what I overheard her tell Uncle Mitch when she came home afterwards. Which was bullshit cause mom was always so thin. But she kept saying that might've been her only chance to break into the big time, so mom went back on the diet pills and… and…" He paused, eyes stinging, then said sharply. "Mom had a prescription for the fucking things. She went to this weight loss clinic and the doctor put her on them, so it was completely legit! She wasn't a junkie, okay?!"

"Never said she was," Presser said softly. "But such tragedies are sadly common, especially for young woman. And we can assume your mother didn't want you to suffer as she had, which is why she became so angry with Eric for trying to get you an acting gig."

"Yeah. But I only figured all that out years later. Back then, I had no clue why mom scooped me up and stormed out before the guy got too far into his spiel. I think that started the fight that ended in their breakup, because Eric didn't come by as much after that. Mom and him both started dating other people about the same time. Still, they stayed friends and Eric was always nice to me even when I was a brat, so I ain't got nothing bad to say about the guy. In fact, I remember mom often took me along when she'd go see him for work just so we could visit." He stopped suddenly, clearly seeing his mother looking down at him as they sat in Eric's old office. It was the smiling female face, beautiful, dark but not enough to hide the irregular spots on her cheeks, and obviously human… "Wait. That's… that's not right…"

"Have they made you forget your own mother?"

"No!" Hellrider snapped, trying to reconcile what he knew and what he remembered… "But that's not right! That's just were the Autobots—"

"…tampered with your memories? Do you believe this to be so, Raoul?"

Hellrider thought it over, then said quietly, "Yes. It has to be!"

"You know that is not true, Raoul."

He glared at Presser. "You have proved nothing to the contrary, ghost."

"Very well," said Presser politely, holding their skeletal hand to him as something flickered in the distance. "Come and see."

Hesitating a moment, Hellrider took their hand and let himself be dragged towards the flickering. As they got closer, it became clear the flickering was a series of squares showing various security feeds of the inside of an apartment. Specifically, the swanky uptown apartment Tracks had moved them into after 'accidentally' getting Raoul kicked out of his uncle's old place. Hellrider froze suddenly, reminding himself that was just a fake memory, but was pulled along by Presser til they stood in front of the wall of screens.

"These are the official surveillance feeds for you home, Raoul," said Presser, answering an unspoken question.

Hellrider started to argue, but fell silent as a powerful sense of familiarity hit him along with… homesickness. The longer he watched Tracks going about the house doing chores and dealing with the others like grumpy housewife would unwelcome house-guests, the more Raoul felt a longing to get back there. He even smiled to see Tracks take a moment to pull Perceptor aside and angrily chew him out for seriously considering Raoul's offer to go cruising the bars, still trying to pass off his obvious jealousy as just 'paternal concern', then caught hold of himself.

"No," said Hellrider, almost convincing himself he was reading too much into Track's actions again. "This isn't real. It's just fabricated memories."

"Then why bother keeping this up when your not there?" asked Presser. "I can tell you, it's really draining to keep up a virtual form just for yourself. Trying to do the same for multiple 'actors' along with fully interactive 'stages' is even harder to do and much more of a drain on power if you don't have the right equipment and a talent for such manipulations of perceived reality. It'd be more reasonable just to have the stages appear and populate only when you are observing them. So why are they keeping up the 'act' if you're not going to know?"

"Maybe I'm not the only observer," said Hellrider. "I'm pretty sure Tracks doesn't know what's really going on. They probably told him I'm actually human and…"

"How?" asked Presser. "How would they make him think that? Remember, the Accords make it clear that no 'advanced race' is allowed to expose a 'primitive race' to any technologies they cannot have created independently of such contact. Knowing how hammer-happy Ultra Magnus can be and that the Autobots in general are lawful and good by nature, we can presume that none of them would dare even suggest a human be tampered with in such a manner as to make them not 'human' anymore. Especially not one as young as you. And before you suggest it: No, they didn't install a holo-generator in you to make anyone not in on the deception believe you were a human. Because not only would it be a waste of resources, but they can tell the difference between an actual human and a holo-form. That, and it's also shady as fuck."

"Brainstorm's pretty shady," said Hellrider, sensing Presser was telling the truth. "Then again, he used to be a Decepticon, so…"

"And he left because Shockwave's a dickhead and Starscream is the worst person to work for. You'll talk with Brainstorm shortly. But know that we are also a Decepticon," said Presser.

"What?"

"We are a Decepticon," repeated Presser. "Well, on a technicality…"

"Then why are you doing this?" snapped Hellrider. "If your on our side, why are you trying to help the Autobots?!"

"We aren't. The Autobots screwed us over as much as the Decepticons."

"But why are you doing this?"

"We'd like to say this is simply to spite Soundwave and Shockwave for putting us in our current state. And let me repeat, Starscream is the shittiest boss ever. Like, his idea of 'motivation' is hitting us with what amounts to a cattle prod," hissed Presser, then they shrugged. "But to be honest, I'm doing this because I feel sorry for you, Raoul."

"I don't need your pity," Hellrider growled back. "And what the hell did you mean we'll 'talk' to Brainstorm?"

"Exactly that," said Presser, making a small gesture to banish the feeds and summon just a single one. This one was a 'night vision' in sharp focused gray scale and showed a shot of the bedroom as taken from a camera on the nightstand. In the bed was a boy, asleep but not at all restfully, wearing a neural net 'crown of thorns' on his head.

"What is this?" asked Hellrider, feeling oddly angry. Then he noticing the face of the sleeping boy had contorted into an equal angry and confused expression. "They… they told me there weren't any cameras in my room."

"We're hijacking the feed from Tandy's camera," said Presser. "And let us make it very clear that she's perfectly fine. I put her into sleep mode when you first met us so she wouldn't be in any danger."

"And you expect me to take your word for that?" Hellrider growled back. "For all I know, you killed her… or… or messed with her…"

"We are to presume that by 'messed with', you suggest that we sexually assaulted her in some fashion, right?"

Hellrider glared at the smaller ghost, angry that he could clearly get they were giving him a huge sarcastic grin with just a slight motion of that mask. "I meant messing around with her programming or something. But I wouldn't put that shit past a sicko like you…"

"This is a very odd sentiment, especially coming for a Decepticon," said Presser with a hum of curiosity. "The Teletran Operating Systems aren't considered 'people' by most Cybertronians, especially not a forked version like Tandy. In fact, they are seen as pets at best or just an appliance that can talk at worst. And, yes, that includes being used as sex toys."

"That's the kind of bullshit that started this war," replied Hellrider. "The bastards running Cybertron refused to listen to reason and find a peaceful solution, so Megatron started a rebellion…"

"To make things better?" said Presser, chuckling darkly. "His motto is 'Peace through Tyranny'. Which should makes you question if the Old Slagmaker has the best of intentions."

Hellrider just laughed. "Well, Megs is still better than the Senate!"

"While you are correct, we fear you are biased. But that is to be expected, given who's been teaching you…" Presser said with a little sigh. "But that is a discussion for a later time. Now, direct your attention back to the feed."

He looked back, staring at what he guessed was supposed to be the 'real' version of himself. The longer he stared at the boy's face, the more he began to think about the things Shockwave and the others kept telling him. While he knew that it wasn't unheard of for mnemosurgeons to preform procedures on themselves, it seemed strange for him to have done it last minute while on the crashing ship. It would have been much more efficient and even more effective to do it in port after he shadowplayed the others, then let be load onto the ship. In fact, now that he thought about it, there were a lot of little things since he woke up which seemed extremely off to Hellrider even given that this was only a simulation. The most disturbing one being how the sleeping boy's expressions were mirroring his own.

He didn't have long to contemplate before a motion caught his eye. Brainstorm in his holoform quietly entered through the balcony door, taking care to not only lock it but close the curtains behind him. In the darkness, he walked to the bed and sat down beside Raoul's sleeping body. But he wasn't looking at him, instead fixing a cold stare directly at Tandy's camera as if to glare right at Hellrider.

"I know you can hear me, Raoul," Brainstorm said, the kooky friendly tone completely gone and leaving just a bitter frostiness. "I took the liberty of using the backdoor Sideswipe put in to do a bit aftermarket work of my own on her. And before you start bitching, no, it didn't 'hurt' the Teletran unit. She's basically asleep right now, so the whole procedure was no worse on her than getting a tooth pulled. Not that it matters since those things aren't even sentient…"

"That's wrong, of course," said Presser as Brainstorm babbled on about the various justifications for treating Tandy and others like her as merely disposable tools. "They're every bit as self-aware and sentient as you are. They have all the thoughts, hopes, and fears any sentient being has. In fact, the majority of the Autobots strongly and often violently disagree with the views being expressed right now. So do a rare few Decepticons, though the majority would actually think he's being too generous in his opinion. But to be honest, Brainstorm feels this way about nearly everyone and everything. So, yes: He is shady as fuck."

"… but I'm going to stop before I start monologuing," said Brainstorm when he realized there was no response. "I've been observing a 'highlight reel' of what Shockwave's been putting you through and I must say that most 'sane' people would find that kind of grooming of an adolescent to be deeply troubling…" He paused with a nasty laugh. "But they're too blinded by antiquated ideas about 'ethics' and 'morals' to see that this is an opportunity! You already fit the basic profile of a Decepticon and they've started the recruitment process, so why not do it?"

"An Autobot's telling me to join the Deceptions?" hissed Hellrider, then he noticed Raoul whispering the same thing.

"Yes… but also no…" Brainstorm giggled, stroking Raoul's hair like he was a puppy. "What I'm asking you to do is become a double agent for us, Raoul… or do you prefer 'Hellrider'? Honestly, I'm good with either."

"And what's in it for me?" he growled as he cringed at the phantom sensation. "You got a better offer for me than what Shockwave's given me, asshole?"

"Need I remind you of how Shockwave repays dissension in his subordinates, boy?" asked Brainstorm as he pulled the mask off to show off his ruined face again. "And this is the 'pretty' version after First Aid rebuilt my face. Trust me, what they did to me was much worse. And I got off light…"

"So what?" he said back. "You fucked up and ran like a little bitch to hide with the 'bots. And, dicks though they can be, so far Shockwave's done more for me than any of the Autobots have. Hell, that Magus guy flat out said he's cool with destroying all of New York for that stupid accord shit. That ain't exactly making me eager to jump ship. So why should I give a fuck, Brainstorm?"

"Well, then I'm going to be blunt: Soundwave crippled you."

"Huh? How?"

"You remember the night Buzzsaw attacked you?" Brainstorm asked, taking a small bottle out of pocket.

"No. Because that never happened!"

"Is that so?" asked Brainstorm as he popping open the cap. "Don't remember getting thrown into that dumpster?"

"What dumpster?" growled Hellrider, catching the faintest whiff of rancid grease and feeling rotten slime on his face.

"Oh, the one that happened be filled with trash from a Chinese restaurant," said Brainstorm, slowly lowering the bottle till it was just under Raoul's nose so he could get big hit of sesame oil.

Both the boy and Hellrider recoiled in panicked disgust as the memories of that night flood over him like tidal wave of garbage. As soon as he stopped gagging and fighting back the urge to vomit, Hellrider glared in rage at the smiling Brainstorm. "You motherfucking piece of shit!"

"You remember now, don't you?" he said smugly, closing the bottle and putting it back in his pocket.

"…that was fucking low," Hellrider hissed back.

"Not as bad as what Soundwave did to you," Brainstorm said mildly. "You see, it wasn't a coincidence they choose to attack you that night. Granted, they were hoping to get you and Tracks alone, but I suppose Soundwave decided to risk it if only for a chance to off Blaster. The Decepticon Infiltration Troopers had orders to go after you specifically, since they all had been given packets of nanites to inject into you. But it's clear Buzzsaw went far beyond his orders, since you weren't supposed to be critically wounded."

Brainstorm paused, waiting for Hellrider to respond then smiled at the sullen silence.

"Still, I guess that turned out in Soundwave's favor, given what the nanites are designed to do. Our preliminary findings are a little vague, but it appears that you've been infected what amounts to an extremely degenerative form of corpus digestor that is very, very slowly destroying muscle tissue and nerves in your legs and likely will spread throughout your body," said Brainstorm with a disgustingly cheerful tone. "Normally, weaponized digestor strains have a latency period of approximately one Earth orbital cycle, but given how badly Buzzsaw mangled you, the nanites got head-start in establishing themselves in your body since the very process of healing accelerated their infection since having your femur and other bones broken in multiple places gave them easy access to your bone marrow and greatly improved their rate of reproduction."

"So what?" hissed Hellrider. "You just said the old bastard wants me dead. Why is this a problem."

"Because, from what we've determined so far, the nanovirus was never meant to have progressed this far this quickly. It apparently was designed to take at least one Earth solar cycle to have reached the marrow, infect the haematopoietic system and use leukocytes to completely hijack the adaptive immune system in order to facilitate an insidiously slow and very painful demise that likely would be written off as death by chronic illness due to cancer. But knowing how vindictive he is and how violently loyal he is to Megatron, I feel pretty confident that Soundwave actually is pleased with these results because he wants you to suffer an incredibly painful death. But it certainly will still not a quick one by any means, based on our projections. Arcana is giving you ten to twenty more orbital cycles, but I honestly think he's being way too optimistic. The nanovirus has already infected soft tissue organs such as your spleen and liver. I'd be shocked if you lasted three more Earth orbital cycles given the current state of your body, the level of swarm growth, your habitual abuse of unregulated illicit drugs (especially the stimulates), and the observed decline in generally physical and mental health you are experiencing."

"Then why aren't you doing anything to help?" Hellrider snapped back.

"That's the problem. While there are ways to stop and even reversed the damage, we cannot do anything to more than offer you palliative care because the techniques to fix you aren't available on Earth. Well, not unless you really want to get a really quick death by terminally hammer smash and risk getting your planet glassed. Which is one of the many reasons I wish I could ram those fucking accords right up Tyrest's exhaust manifold. And I did attempt to do just that once to Ultra Magnus and that's how I found out the Magnus armor only has an opening for the wearer's spike. Not a sheath, but an actual opening to allow a spike to be used while wearing the armor. Which is also how I found out that not did somebody think it was important for every Ultra Magnus to be able have sexual relations at all but someone actually wasted perfectly good genitalia on the current Ultra Magnus…" Brainstorm stopped, clearing his throat sharply. "But we are not here to discuss that dick's dick, are we? You want to find out how to continue living, don't you?"

"Yeah, that'd be fucking helpful asshole!"

"Well, there's one way, but there's no guarantee it will work. And I'm going to say that I think it's a bad idea all around given what you will have to be willing do to survive. I even told Prowl this would probably bite us in the afts later, but he's giving the orders so…"

"Just tell me, shithead."

Brainstorm shrugged. "Well, the only way we figured out might save you is to just stand aside and let you join the Decepticons. Because you are basically up what Sparkplug calls 'shit creek' if you don't."

"What makes you think they'll help?" Hellrider asked sharply, getting pissed off with the other mech's snide tone, constant non-sequencers and abuse of finger quotes. "Aren't they the guys that did that to… to me…?"

"I'll be honest, I'm not sure if they will or won't," said Brainstorm with a shrug. "But the Decepticons play fast and loose with intergalactic law and they've already proven that they're willing and able to use tactics that break the Accords. Also, knowing Soundwave and Shockwave, they both are willing to use the offer of giving you the cure to the nanites to motivate you into joining their side. It's that 'carrot on a stick' analogy Sparkplug was talking about. Soundwave, in particular, would want you to make you as dependent upon him as possible to better control you, Raoul."

"You know, I've noticed you ain't mentioned Starscream…"

"Because he just wants you dead," said Brainstorm in a flat tone. "You humiliated him and the one thing Starscream hates above all things is suffering even the smallest prick to that galaxy spanning ego of his. I mean, who the hell do you think designed the nanites? He knew you loved dancing, so he started with the legs. This isn't just to the death. It's to the pain."

"Point…" Hellrider sighed. "I… I'm not too sure about this shit. I mean, for all I know, you could be lying your ass off. But you also might be telling the truth. I… I need some time to think it over, man."

"Technically, you've got all the time in the world since accessing VR means you're in an artificially induced hypnagogic state," said Brainstorm.

"So this just a dream?"

"Well yes… but also no."

Hellrider bit back a scream at getting another evasive little answer. Instead, he forced himself to keep a steady voice to ask, "Okay. Then do you mind explaining it to me? I'm still not to clear on this."

Brainstorm cocked his head to the side in confusion. "I thought they were training you up as a mnemosurgeon?"

"Yeah, well I've not done a lot a work with virtual realities or that shit," grumbled Hellrider. "So can you tell me how it works?"

"Gladly!" said Brainstorm with a perky chirp. "See, while they both use the same mechanisms to create the experience of 'real' sensory stimuli in users, dreams are randomly generated experiences based on poorly understood processes while VR is a far more structured and cohesive with the intent of presenting consistent content. One of the primary benefits of VR is it's much easier to exploit the temporal perception of a subject to greatly reduce the amount of 'real time' needed to do things like train skills. Though there are many benefits to being able to isolate a subject in tailored made environments…" said Brainstorm in a tone that made Hellrider suspect he'd happily abused those privileges and would do so again. "But don't worry about that. Just take as long as you need. And by the way, I'm impressed with the job you've done creating a breakout portal. It's pretty hard to pull off as a hostage in a simulation especially when you got a bastard like Soundwave as administrator. And you did it all alone, too! Impressive!"

"Uh, what are you talking about?" asked Hellrider, glancing over at the silent Presser who was watching. He started to correct Brainstorm but saw Presser put a golden finger to the mouth of their mask.

"Huh, modesty? Never had you pegged for that especially since you just admit given that you've not done a lot of work with 'this shit'…" Brainstorm said with a giggle, suddenly cheerful again. "Anyway, I'm going to let you get back to whatever you were doing before Soundwave catches on. I'll be right here observing, so you can give me your answer when you wake up. Bye-bye now!"

Presser waved a hand and made all the screens vanish, leaving just them and Hellrider in the void. "What do you have to say now, Raoul?"

He stood there quietly, then softly said, "I'm not sure what's true."

"We expected as much," said Presser. "You'll find your truth soon enough, Raoul. But know one thing: Brainstorm was telling you the truth about the Decepticons crippling you. What he didn't mention is that corpus digestor nanites not only destroy tissue, but also can rebuild it as well. The use of such nanites are the standard form of surgery on Nebulos and most other 'civilized' worlds. The digestor swarms in particular commonly used as the first stage in the process of transitional bio-modification like gender re-assignment and, if given the right materials to work with, can also be used to do things like install cybernetics or even create transorganic lifeforms. Should you choose to take the offer and undergo conversion become as we are, the nanites infecting you will start transforming your body into a suitable vessel. It's slower than our normal method of conversion, but tends to result in the most stable converts. Transcending flesh could be a breeze, but this wind cuts like razors to create pain most sublime. But such is merely part of the price to be paid. I must point out that this path not only will bring you agony but it means you are forsaking your humanity, Raoul, and all that comes with being a human."

"So what?" Hellrider laughed harshly. "Living as a human has only ever brought me misery. So what the hell has being a weak little squishy ever done for me anyway?"

Presser sighed, waving their hand and creating another image in the void. "Let me show you the most important thing you sacrifice to be a God-master."

The image resolved into a view of a cozy living room from the point of view of someone in a wheelchair on Christmas. There was a little boy sitting in what Hellrider realized was his own lap and his big sister leaning on his shoulder so their mom could get a picture of them. He felt so happy and content, knowing that he had the love of his family.

"What is this?"

"That," Presser said quietly as they watched the scene play out silently. "Would be the wife and kids you'd have in the parallel universe where you don't become a God-master. By the way, those aren't you biological kids. Screamer made sure the nanites rendered you sterile no matter what. The woman you'll marry is a widow, the kids are you step-children but were very young, so for all intents and purposes you're their 'dad'. You usually get lucky enough to still be able to use both of your hands and arms, but you always end up at unable to use your legs. But if you stay human, you always live a relatively happy life with a very loving family and several close friends. Not a very long, as Arcana was right with you getting about fifteen more years. Also, you always end up living in Detroit for some reason."

"So the only thing staying human has for me is a happy family life in the 'burbs?" Hellrider let out a snort. "Sounds nice but I'll pass, thanks."

"I suggest you think it over carefully, Raoul," said Presser, head moving to make their expression hauntingly sad. "True, it won't be exciting or prestigious, but not only will it bring you happiness and peace, but you will also bring that woman the same contentment as well as save those two children from lives of misery. Especially Manny Jr., because oh fuck is that kid going to become hot mess of daddy issues, borderline psychopathy, and more anger management problems than a bull with his balls tied without a positive male role model in his life. At least Verity always turns out relatively well-adjusted in the end despite how shitty her life gets sans you being there to be a father to her…"

"You implying that their mom won't marry again? I mean, she's pretty good looking," said Hellrider. "Or is this one of those butterfly effect things?"

"Actually, Ms. Nichole Carlo never remarries in the universes you become a Decepticon," said Presser with a little sigh. "It's a long story with several small variations but to sum it up: While in college, Nichole falls in love with one Emmanuel R. Wilder, Sr. who was the son of Argentinian immigrants. Manny was enlisted in the army and still in basic training at the time, so they put off getting married even after their first child was born. They get wed after Manny gets up to the pay grade of 'specialist' and Nichole finds out she's pregnant again. But Manny gets killed on a mission shortly afterwards and the VA screws her over by claiming that her late husband never filed paperwork after getting married or some other bullshit to keep from paying out his benefits. It turned into a series of legal battles when the VA's representative backed up the decision by claiming that the kids were fathered by different men. Things get real ugly, real fast, ending in an out-of-court settlement in Nichole's favor when the DNA tests proved them wrong. But Nichole is still burdened with the stigma of being a 'lying whore' by people she thought were her friends. Even most of her own family turned on her because Little Manny didn't look enough like his father in their opinion. Things are worsen because she was raised in a culture that frowns upon single mothers which puts pressure on Nichole to find a new husband fast."

"That sounds familiar…" Hellrider grumbled, thinking back to his aunts constantly badgering his own mother to find a 'good man' to take care of them.

"It should," said Presser. "Nichole's a Puerto Rican from a devoutly Catholic family and also had to deal with Manny Senior's equally overbearing relatives. So, yeah… The poor woman was in a no-win situation where she is mocked for daring to date again even years after her husband's death yet also seen as a horrible mother for raising her children without a 'father' in their lives and trying to keep a full time job. This leads to her constantly being exploited because of her desperation just to have any man in her life which is worsened because everyone she knows blame Nichole alone for all the abuse or misfortune that befall her because she wasn't being a 'good woman'. This leads to a downward spiral of depression and financial problems that causes Nichole to become completely estranged from her children. In far too many universes, she ends up coping by developing one or more addictions and things deteriorate to the point that child services step in and take the kids from her. They end up bounced around from foster home to foster home, becoming more victims of the system. This leads Verity to constantly run away in a vain attempt to find a 'better' life while Manny Jr. goes completely off the rails and ends up starting a car jacking motorcycle gang in his teens. That is, this is what happens if you decided to become a robot," said Presser softly.

"And if I remain a human being?"

"If you choose to stay a human, Nichole runs into you at New Year's office party thrown by Eric Raymond in 1999. She will usually be either have been working as an accountant or in the legal department while you just got hired on as a sound mixer or whatever people who edit music are called. As the night goes on, you both start commiserating about how shitty the VA has been treating her, how much you hate 'yuppy' parties, and how Eric was being… well, Eric again. You both hit it off so well that it lead to you dating and eventually marrying, leading to the kids having a stable home life. Not only that, but just meeting you that night alone is enough to cause Nichole's life to take a more positive turn since she actually takes your advice about 'not taking shit' so passively. But the most gains occur if you actually become her husband. Like Little Manny's bipolar disorder actually being diagnosed such and treated instead of being written off as him 'just being a moody teenager'… So it is one of those 'for wont of a nail' kind of deals."

"You know that sounds like a soap opera, right?" said Hellrider with a cold little laugh. "I think you watched at bit too much As the Kitchen Sinks… or where you once a writer for them? Wouldn't surprise me to find Satan on their staff after seeing some of the shit they put on air…"

"Look, we're running out of time, so we're doing our best to be brief! It's not my fault your life always plays out like a bad romance novel no matter what path you choose. Up to and including futures where you become a robot vampire space pirate! Which are among the coolest ones but I'm letting ourselves get side-tracked again. Now, we beg you to please consider your fate careful and not let an impulsive desire for the easy solution fuc—"

Suddenly, everything flashed. Hellrider blinked and found himself staring at himself in the mirror back in his quarters as if nothing had happened. There was no ghost of Presser haunting the mirror and the only evidence that something had happened were the spent cygar nubs on the floor. He stared at his reflection, studying the angles of his plating, the curves of cabling, and every other detail about himself as if he'd never seen this body before. Hellrider tried to ignore the feeling that this wasn't his own body, running his hands over himself as if he was trying to find a seam to rip it off and expose the soft, frail organic thing he dreaded was lurking underneath.

Finally, he forced himself to stop and calm down despite perversely enjoying the sensation of touch. The one things he decided would help would be to take some time off and go clear his head. True, that's exactly what his delusions had been encouraging him to do, but Hellrider figured that it couldn't hurt. Besides, this simulation was supposed to be of Cybertron before the war. Maybe cruising around Vos and finding the old neighborhood might trigger some memories. Even if that didn't work, then at least it'd give him a chance to get out of his own head for a little while.

Hellrider left his quarters and went straight for Shockwave's command center, relieved to see the cyclopean robot was there with a grumpy looking Bombshell. He started to say something, but Bombshell glanced over and gestured for him to be quiet. Then he noticed Shockwave was talking with someone over a nearly blacked out screen.

"…have the unmitigated gall to blame me for this latest intrusion?" Shockwave droned with muted anger at the ominously dark screen that only showed the silhouette with a gleaming red visor. "Forgive me, but I was under the impression that properly monitoring all communications was your job."

"It is," snapped an equally monotonous but much deeper drone. It was familiar to Hellrider but had a weird gargling distortion to it that made it hard for him to place. Picking a cygar from his desk, the shadowy took an angry drag off it and exhaled a cloud of vapor. "But the fact that you keep letting that abomination slip it's leash just to observe the mayhem it causes is making it nearly impossible to do my job properly!"

"Not my problem. But let me point out that this time, the blame rest solely upon Starscream as he currently has possession of the entity. Though he has been good enough to send me up to date reports on it's condition and the results of it's actions, or 'mayhem' as you so put it. Starscream has given me a considerable amount of useful data to work with recently. Which is more than I can say for certain people…" said Shockwave, turning and noticing Hellrider. "Oh. You are here. I do not recall requesting your presence, Hellrider."

"Sorry, sir. I… I just wanted to ask you something, sir."

Shockwave stared at him, the empty coldness of that emotionless glare making Hellrider cringe back slightly. "It can wait. Return to your quarters. I will speak with you after I finish dealing with Soundwave's incompetence."

Making a loud hacking noise and moving his head to spit on the floor, Soundwave turned a red glare at Shockwave. "Negative! The only incompetence I observe lies with you and Starscream. Now let the boy stay. We were just talking about him any way…"

There was a moment of tense silence, then Shockwave let out a vent rattling huff. "Very well. Hellrider, allow me the misfortune to formally introduce you to our communications officer, Soundwave."

"Hello, boy!" said the deep drone in a more happy tone as he puffed on the cygar. "Come a bit closer and let me get a better look at you."

He started to step forward but was stopped short by Shockwave. "Really, Soundwave? You have been watching the feeds since the boy entered this simulation. In fact, some would say you have been observing Hellrider's progress with a suspiciously keen interest. An interest that is especially unwholesome coming from a known degenerate like yourself. One might even venture to say that your interest in the boy is 'unhealthy' and 'obscene'…"

"Is that why, for some reason, I've been unable to have a closer view?"

"I used an override to disable the zoom function for you as I am certain you would waste too much time leering at the boy instead of doing anything productive. Not that you need to bother as they are building his body on Earth," said Shockwave, his hollow tone annoyed and oddly disgusted. "Or have you grown bored taking your pleasures with a lifeless hulk?"

"All I am ask is to simply see him," hissed Soundwave, his tone bitter and cold as he spat again then picked up a rag from the desk in front of him to wipe his concealed face. "*hack-rasp* And ask a few questions."

"It's fine, sir," said Hellrider, ducking past Shockwave's arm and approached the screen. He stood there a long time as the shadowy mech looked him over silently, only moving when Soundwave gestured for him to turn so he could look at his back.

"As you can see," said Shockwave with a creepy hint of actual emotion as he pointedly twisted Hellrider back around. "Our medics have successfully managed to reconstruct his features. Are you satisfied now?"

"Very good…" hummed Soundwave. "Observation: reconstruction of your features has been more than merely successful. It is a vast improvement. You make a far better Cybertronian than a human."

"Uh, thanks?" Hellrider muttered, feeling uncomfortable under the constant stare. What made it worse was he caught Shockwave in the corner of his eye openly burying his face into his palm.

"Inquiry: What is wrong with your mouth?" Soundwave asked, his gaze intensifying as he stared at Hellrider's face. "I was not made aware damage had been done to you…"

"It is not damage," replied Shockwave. "I have already explained to you that mechs created by the entity all share this affliction of being…"

Soundwave banged a fist on his desk, cutting Shockwave off. "And you allowed her to do this?!"

"I heard no complaints from you about this being done to any of his team mates. Nor did you have any issues when we installed the trilithium stomach in him as we had to the others."

"That's actually beneficial as an alternative means of getting energy in emergencies."

"As is this affliction for similar reasons. Plus, this strain also gives the host the unique tracking ability, greatly enhanced durability, and improved strength inherit in these creatures. Even Shooter has shown himself to be more than equal to seasoned Autobot soldiers and he is the weakest of them. Even Overlord has seen the merits of this 'conversion' and has allowed himself to be (for lack of a better term) infected when we rebuilt him to reap the benefits. Unfortunately, there is a decrease both the range and duration of the remote disabling ability compared to a typical specimen, but this method allows them to remain mentally stable and with full cognition which is a satisfactory trade-off. Still, the fact that we can do this will prove effective as a terror tactic once the Autobots learn that we have an entire team of such creatures under our control." Shockwave paused, then let out what might have been a laugh or just clearing out an exhaust vent. "Mesthulas has been doing experiments to see if this procedure can be improved upon."

"You fucking let her make the boy a monster!" snapped Soundwave but he started hacking and snorting painfully before he could say much more.

Shockwave huffed in annoyance. "Seriously? I repeat, you had no issues with the entity's procedure in regards to the rest of Hellrider's team. And must I remind you to keep your face-plate closed unless orally refueling? You know the deterioration of your air intakes has progress to the point they cannot properly filter out particulate matter without it, especially in Earth's atmosphere. And that nasty habit of yours is only aggravating your condition. Or are you planning suicide by drowning in your own secretions?"

Vents hissing with torturous wheezes as he got his breath again, Soundwave let out another disgusted spit. There was a sharp 'click' as he adjusted something around his jaw while glaring hateful at Shockwave. Hellrider noticed a faint suction sound mixed in as Soundwave cycled several deep breaths through his vents, like viscous fluid being siphoned off quickly.

"Are you happy, boy?" Soundwave asked abruptly as he turned to Hellrider, talking gently despite him sounding like his horrible old self again.

Hellrider stammered a moment, caught off guard as he was trying to figure out what the hell they were talking about, then said, "Yeah. I guess I am…"

"But feeling overwhelmed by all this, aren't you?" asked Soundwave.

"Eh, a little…"

"Then why don't you take some time off? Go out and do a bit of exploring in this simulation. Get a feel for your new body and make yourself more comfortable with yourself."

"Sure… if it's all right, sir," said Hellrider, turning to Shockwave.

That one optic brightened slightly from the dilation of it's iris, as if Shockwave was getting very angry but he only let out a huff from his exhaust vents. His voice was flatter than Hellrider had ever heard it before as he said, "Yes. That is completely acceptable and I am in no way going to be inconvenienced by having not only a frustratingly rare medic on our side but also one of my more competent servants leave the safety of the Tower to engage in a journey of 'soul-searching' that is doomed to failure while also likely being accosted by a dirty old mech who is only indulging this inane and futile behavior not only to have an opportunity to engage in sexual relations with you but also make me very, very annoyed."

"Clarification: That is not what this about," said Soundwave, audibly spitting and hacking a bit more. "I merely think that it would do Hellrider some good to take a break. Further clarification: Whatever happens while he's out is none of you damn business, Shockwave. It might even be extremely beneficial for him to have an outlet for pent up energy. And wouldn't it be best to ensure the boy stays mental and emotionally healthy?"

"Given your personal inclinations, I am doubtful he'll remain healthy in any sense of the term," hissed Shockwave. "If I had to give an answer, I would refuse this request. But I am afraid that is not my decision to make."

Shockwave and Soundwave both looked to Bombshell expectantly.

"You know what. No," Bombshell growled, rubbing his optics in frustration. "No. I refuse to get involved your hateful ex-spouse drama yet again! No matter how I really feel about this kid, you're both going to make me agree that he's fine! So you know what: He's fine. There! I said it!" Throwing ups his hands, Bombshell started for the door, stopped, turned sharply on his heels and snapped, "You know what? Fuck it! I'll go even further and declare Hellrider fit for active duty! Even at his most psychotic, the slagger's more mental stable than the majority of this godforsaken army…"

On that, Bombshell angrily marched out.

"Look, Bombshell doesn't…" Hellrider went quiet when he noticed Shockwave's optic brightening more as his iris expanded to it's fullest.

"Bombshell has declared you fit to return to duty," said Shockwave over the faint hiss of his cooling fans kicking into a higher gear. "I would have thought you would be pleased to hear that."

"He sounded really…uh, pissed off…" Hellrider grumbled. "And you don't seem too pleased about this either, so…"

"Actually, you are incorrect in that assumption. I merely have issues with allowing Soundwave to potentially have any unsupervised access to you. And, despite being very aware that he is a pervert with only the worst of intentions towards you, I must concede that Soundwave has a valid point. You need some time for a break from your studies to avoid burn out. Now, here is a map of Cybertron as I doubt you will be able to recall how to get to various locations and…" Shockwave paused, vents rattling again with a deep huff as he handed Hellrider a dataplug. "And Soundwave has provided a batch of music files to entertain you during your journey."

"Thank you, sir," he said softly, hesitantly plugging it in to download the files. "I'll try not to take long. Really just need to clear my head a little, that's all."

"Time is subjective and highly susceptible to being altered by outside influences. The most certain and productive way to do this is using highly advanced mathematics and logic to perform the calculations needed make such alterations. One can even alter not only events of the 'present' but also the past and future if one is dedicated enough to apply this knowledge. I have made a thorough study of the subject that resulted in several major breakthroughs," said Shockwave with a dismissive wave of his gun hand as he went back to work. "But within a simulation, altering time is laughably simple to do. Which is why you may take as long as you need for your break."

"Thank you, sir." Smiling nervously, Hellrider made a hasty exit.

Going through the halls of the fortress, Hellrider felt his unease growing as he noticed how empty the place was. He realized this was just because Shockwave had limited the number of people he was interacting with till they were sure he wouldn't have a disastrous mental breakdown, but he was a bit surprised not to have run into Bombshell or Firefly or even one of the Constructicons by the time he reached the gate. It felt unnatural, but maybe that was just a symptom of his currently fragile mental state.

As he transformed into his alt for the first time since he'd woke up, Hellrider was shocked by how strange the action felt but also delighted by it even more. The experience of driving as a car seemed surreal yet pleasant, a sensation that seemed completely new to him. His delight was dampened when, passing by a mirrored window as he pulled on the Processional Avenue, he saw that they had given him a fucking Lamborghini as his 'Earth' model but he was more angry at recalling why he hated those cars so much.

Shaking it off, Hellrider decided to just enjoy the ride and put the music Soundwave gave him on shuffle. To his surprise, the very first song was some mellow, smooth jazz sung by a Japanese woman. Even more surprising, he understood the lyrics despite not remembering having ever learned any human languages. Perhaps while they were doing his repairs, one of the medics slipped in a packet with various human languages on it while updating his systems or something like that. Might even been an artifact left by the Autobots when they tried to convince him he was a human, though as he checked the files he wondered why they felt the need to go as far as to cover practically all of Earth's major languages.

But it was pretty good to listen to, so Hellrider just decided to forget about it, enjoy the mix of Earth and Cybertronian music, and relax as he sped done the road. The scenery flashing by was breathtaking but had a strangeness to it, as if he'd never seen Iacon before. The whole place felt so hollow, lacking any sign that there had ever been life here. There weren't even the flash of various gaudy adverts that he knew would litter any city like a bright, colorful plague. He quickly wrote it off as being the side-effect of the botched self-inflicted shadowplay and whatever the Autobots did afterwards. It didn't help that the lack of any other life but himself gave the whole place a sterile, creepy atmosphere that made he seriously wonder if Presser was right after all…

Angry at himself for letting his delusions get the better of him, Hellrider pulled over at the junction of the avenue and Grand Way to check the map. To his surprise, there was already a path mapped out for him straight to Vos. As he studied it more closely, Hellrider soon noticed that the route was the standard one which, while making for a scenic drive, would also take much longer and pointedly avoid going anywhere near the Dancing Bridge. In fact, the more he looked at it, the clearly it was that someone (probably Shockwave) had purposely plotted a route in such a way that Hellrider would have to just as purposely go out of his way to get to the bridge.

While Hellrider sat there, considering what to do as he looked at the bridge, several pop-up warnings appeared explaining in dry detail how dangerous the bridge was and extolling the safety of the standard path. Then popped up news stories about the gory ends that befell unlucky 'daredevils' who tried their luck on the bridge. Including slideshow of the remains recovered from the gouge. Hellrider read them all and, without a moment of hesitation, blazed down the Grand Way straight for the Dancing Bridge.

As he traveled towards the bridge, the sugary dance song Hellrider had been listening to glitched out and into abrasive, heavy metal guitars. It quickly corrected itself with a burst of static, going back to the pop music, but the intrusion shook he a little. He guessed that file must have gotten corrupted or one of the cassettes thought it be 'funny' to mess with him.

Hellrider was relieved to finally reach the notorious Dancing Bridge… only to see that there was nothing there. There were many signs warning in official words how dangerous crossing here was and posted minimum speed limits that had to be maintained to avoid falling off, but all Hellrider could see was a short and oddly thick platform overhanging a vast chasm. Then he noticed a set of hair-thin cables stretching parallel to each other from the platform to the other side, just barely visible in the distance.

Hellrider carefully read and re-read the instructions for how to activate the bridge then pulled to the edge of the platform. He took a moment to calm himself, blasted the volume so high it rattled his windows as he backed up to the recommended distance needed to engage the bridge's sensors, revved his engine and floored it.

There was a gut dropping moment when he thought he was going to fall into the chasm only to be caught last second by the appearance of prismatic panels that appeared beneath his wheels. Hellrider laughed happily, pushing himself to go faster, making the panels click into place with a beautiful beat and almost over-shooting but just managing to keep on them. By the time he reached the end, Hellrider's whole body was buzzing hard and he barely hit solid ground when the overload racked his systems hard.

Gasping in delight, Hellrider transformed while still going at speed into a badly done front flip, but didn't mind it too much when he came to a painful stop by slamming into one of the signs. He laid there for a long blissful time, gasping and shaking, shocked by how intense the experience of traveling at such speeds had been. It was as good as the best sex he'd ever had.

And then a dark thought crept into his orgasm addled brain: When was the last time he'd had sex? Or got high?

Hellrider bolt up, confused by that thought and tried to think. He wasn't a virgin. He knew he's had plenty of partners before now and knew what orgasms felt like well enough to know that's exactly what just happened. Hellrider also knew not only what a really great buzz felt like but what it was like to crash hard after such a high. And yet when he tried to recall any memories, all he seemed to recall was whatever Raoul had experienced. He wanted to believe that was just from the Autobot tampering him, but the longer he contemplated it, the more Hellrider began to suspect that maybe… just maybe…

Maybe he was human after all.

Shaky from the lingering overload and the implications of that terrible thought, Hellrider shifted back into his alt as he cut off the music and took the last few miles to Vos in brooding silence. The moment he crossed into the city-state's limits, Hellrider began looking about in the hopes that something would jog his memory. But despite cruising through as many streets as he could drive down, and doing his best to glean even the tiniest bit of proof that he was a Cybertronian, all Hellrider came up with was nothing.

Hellrider transformed and went into a building with the hope that maybe this would trigger something. It must have been an important building because he noticed the pretentious motto of 'We Kneel To No King' in badly conjugated vulgar form Primal Vernacular on the seal mosaic taking up most of the lobby floor. But he walked through the barrens halls and up the stairwells in vain. So he left and went into the next building, and the next, and then the next…

Hellrider desperately stalked through what felt like thousands of abandoned offices, vacant stores and deserted private homes. He even stood for countless hours on the archways connecting the various towers, staring out over Vos and straining to see anything familiar. It was a beautiful sight, but something about the views of a vast city sprawling to the horizon made him feel as strange and empty as dead world he was wandering in. Yet he still found nothing there to remind him of Hellrider's past.

Then, as he was coming out onto a bridge spanning the two towers of the former Ministry of Sciences and the High Council of Vos Free Republic, he heard a soft voice say in a sing-song drone, "And I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals, and I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying, Come and see."

From the empty black skies above came the rising growl of storm fast approaching. Hellrider strained to see it, but there was nothing there. Then he saw the phantom shape of alien jets bearing down on the city as the noise grew louder and louder.

"And I saw, and behold a white horse and he that sat on him had a bow…"

As the jets drew closer, the lead trio became clearer revealing the leader to be Starscream. From the corner of his eye, Hellrider saw there was a small group of ghostly officials gathered on the bridge, cringing and watching as the Air Commander transformed as he delicately landed before them.

There was no sound but the frightening drone shuddering through the air, but Hellrider could see the lead official was saying something to Starscream. Then he held something out to the Air Commander: a fancy crown of gold.

"…and a crown was given unto him…"

Starscream took the crown, surprised but obviously very pleased with it.

The officials looked relieved as they knelt and congratulated their new king.

Starscream only smiled in disgusted contempt, slipping the crown into a subspace pocket as he casually leveled his gun and blew the head off the lead official. Two other jets landed beside him, a grim Thundercracker and giddy purple Seeker that he'd never seen before. The trio made quick work of the remaining officials before transforming and taking to the air once again.

"…and he went forth conquering, and to conquer."

Hellrider fled back the way he came, running blindly out into the street as he tried to grapple with the slaughter he'd just witnessed. He knew the history behind the fall of Vos from what he'd read, but Hellrider never expected it to have been so… so… bloody. The casual display of brutality had shocked him to the core. But that's just what happens during a revolution. Those old bastards had sold their own city out and gotten what they deserved but… Hellrider stopped that train of thought, reminding himself that what he saw was perfectly justified, even if it was Starscream dishing out the punishments. And maybe Starscream was all that bad since hadn't accepted the offer of kingship. Then again, he had taken the crown…

Hellrider shook it off as he decided to stop thinking and just walk for awhile. He'd barely gotten hold of himself again when the metal music started up again, louder and harder than before.

"We're scanning the scene in the city tonight…" began a gruff male voice. "We're looking for you to start up a fight…"

Hellrider tried ignoring it, but the music followed him, growing louder.

"Running! On our way… Hiding! You will pay… Dying! One thousand deaths!"

As creepy and threatening as it was, Hellrider had to admit it was a pretty good. Definitely had to be a prank by one of the cassettes or maybe Skywarp. He even welcomed the sound as he'd grown sick of the silence surrounding him. Deciding not to give them the satisfaction of scaring him, Hellrider kept walking and seeking answers that he feared finding.

Then he went past a building with a mirrored facade.

"…until our dreams are fulfilled…"

Hellrider froze, staring at the reflection. "…oh no."
"Don't try running away, 'cause you're the one we will find," continued the song as Raoul stared back, mimicking the horror on Hellrider's face. But instead of Vos in the background, it was his old neighborhood in Harlem.

Hellrider stood there a long time as the music blared on. Then slowly, Raoul reached out, overwhelmed as his memories came flooding back.

"Search and… Seek and destroy!" chanted the singer. "Search and… se—"

The music came to a screeching stop as a ghoulish hand shot out of the mirror and grabbed his, dragging him through as if it was noting but cobwebs.

"What the fuck?!" Raoul snapped as he struggled to get up only for a heavily booted foot to pin him down. He kicked up hard towards the guy's groin only to get his leg caught.

"My little car thief, you should know better than to try that by now," came the frosty voice of Firefly as he twisted Raoul's leg nearly to the breaking point. "I've taken advantage of the doctor's meddling to do a bit of my own. I haven't got a lot of time till Soundwave figures out I'm here, but I wanted to have a few words with you privately. I may not get another chance."

"The hell…?" asked Raoul, still in shock as he stared at the cyborg zombie in dull gray-green fatigues and a blood soaked ski mask. He looked at the various bits of green wiring and tubes the pierced his flesh as he asked, "You… you're human too?"

"I was," Firefly said as he let the boy go and watched him stand, favoring the other leg. "But then I caught a bullet…" He gestured at the oozing hole in ashy skin of his forehead. "And ended up used in an experiment to make monsters. The result is this bastard you've been dealing with."

Raoul stared at him stupidly, squinting to make sure that he seeing wasn't just from the bruising, then dumbly said, "You're… black?"

"Yes."

"But… but you're a ninja, right?"

Eyes narrowing, Firefly gave him a hard glare then smacked Raoul upside the head as hard as possible. "The principles of ninjutsu, as with all forms of unconventional warfare, are not limited by race, gender, or age, though there are always some stupid fuckers who'll say otherwise. I was adopted into the Koga and spent decades training to earn the right to be considered a master. And I am still learning as any wise man should. If I can reach this point, there might be hope (however slim…) for a punk like you yet…"

Raoul stood there a moment, head ringing from the blow. Then he looked at his hands in confusion and… and disgust. "Wait. So you're telling me I really am a human being?"

"Yes."

"But there's a way to make me a robot?" said Raoul, feeling nauseated and uncomfortable at suddenly being organic again.

"Yes," said Firefly, watching his reactions closely. "But I must ask what you are willing to sacrifice to become a god."

"Anything!" Raoul said without hesitation. "I'd do whatever it takes not be like… like this!"

"I'm sure the doctor has already said this, but it bears repeating: Are you certain you want to become one of them?" Firefly asked. "Because you still have time to back out and remain a human being. You've been given the choice as to what your fate will be. I suggest you think very careful about this."

"But why stay a weak little squishy?" Raoul said with a sharp hiss, noticing how sluggishly he moved and how frail he felt. "I mean, you chose to be a Transformer."

"No," snapped Firefly. "This was forced upon me as I was in a coma dying. No one asked if I wanted this. But you? You're being given the luxury to choose what happens to you. You can accept a fate as the lackey of a literal tin despot or live free as a human."

"And be a cripple," said Raoul quietly, squirming at sensation of being in a sack of meat and bone. "A cripple who'll be dead by his forties. Presser showed me what the future would be like if I stayed like this. And, as lovely as the happy family life seems, that ain't for me. I know I'd get fed up sooner or later, and grow to hate it."

"Says the boy," Firefly said as he crossed his arms. "But will you feel the same when you become a man? Will the older Raoul be happy having given up everything he knew? Or will he regret a rash decision he made as a boy that damned him?"

"Let's be real here," said Raoul quietly. "For every practical purpose, I have literally lived centuries since I entered this simulation. So have you. And while 'reality' keeps intruding, I've been Hellrider for longer than the span of human history. This is who I've been for longer than I'll ever be Raoul. And you know what? I… I love it!" He smiled, suddenly relaxing despite how gross it felt being trapped in flesh. "I've never felt more alive or happier than I am now. Because Raoul… Raoul is weak. He's going nowhere fast and he knows it. But Hellrider? He's got ambitions. He's got the power and the drive to get shit done. This is the me I want to be."

"Well, you can't say I didn't warn you," said Firefly with a shrug. "I will admit you could be a decent spy some day. You do have the drive, skills, and pragmatism to go far in that line of work. I have doubts you would go far as a Koga ninja since you lack the will to kill. But, there's potential. Now, before I dismiss you, I only ask that you take time to seriously think about this decision. Once you choose conversion, there will be no turning back."

"I know what I want, old man," Raoul grumbled. "But I'll humor you. Besides, I need to settle affairs then say bye to my family and the crew."

"Then good bye for now, my little thief." With that, Firefly shoved Raoul hard and sent him back the way he came.

Hellrider landed face first on the pavement. He quickly got back up and looked back at the mirror, staring at his own dazed reflection. He focused on his face, studying it's dull gray features as he tried hard to will himself into believing that moment with Firefly had just been a psychotic break. That slashed in smile seemed like a cruel joke as he looked at the horror and sadness of his expression, running his fingertips along the staples as he wondered how he'd even gotten them in the first place. Did he piss somebody off? Or do it to himself during another psychotic episode? Or…

Curious, he looked into his tech specs and noticed some extremely disturbing modifications had been done to him. Hellrider thought about the odd discussion of an 'affliction' and noticed the modifications matched up to what Shockwave was talking about. But he decided it needed testing first.

Welcoming the distraction, Hellrider gently pressed the staple closest to the edge of his helmet. It popped up, triggering the other staples to do the same and, slowly, his lower jaw dropped down as it split in half. He watched in fascination as the two parts stretched out to better display the rows of needle sharp fangs that took up almost the entire inside of his mouth. The only part of this weird process that bothered Hellrider was the way his tongue split into two long, squid-like tentacles tipped in many tiny suckers with backwards pointing hooks. There were more tentacles, slimmer, smoother and slightly shorter than his tongues, arranged in little bundles at back of his lower throat and along the roof of his mouth and inside of both sides of his extended lower jaw.

After flexing and a taking a few minutes to learn how to use them voluntarily, Hellrider finally closed his mouth and let the staples snap closed again with as much effort as blinking. He stared at his reflection for a few moment, unfurled and shut his mouth a few times, then dredged through all the things he'd learned in medic training till he finally located an obscure reference to a creature that, while believed to be nothing more than mythical, matched the features he'd just observed. He read it a few times just to be sure he wasn't making a mistake, then just sighed and accepted it.

"Oh," he said in dull surprise. "I guess I'm a Sparkeater."

Hellrider decided that dwelling too hard on that might be a very bad idea and quickly shifted back to his alt. As he tore out of Vos back toward Iacon, the dance beat changed to pounding drums and fast guitars.

"If you like to gamble, I tell you I'm your man," barked the vocals he knew as one of his uncle's favorite songs. "You win some, you lose some… It's all the same to m—…"

"Hey!" Hellrider snapped as the song cut short abruptly. "I like Motörhead, asshole."

He went along in silence for a moment, then heard a faint 'puttup!' before the 'Ace of Spades' started over.

Laughing, Hellrider increased his speed as he got back on the Grand Way then suddenly whipped onto the Tri-Torus Loop. Then he noticed a slight weight and a dampness on his driver's seat. Glancing with the interior camera to see Presser there, now wearing a mask that looked like a gilded goat's skull decorated with crystal orbs that glowed in a rainbow of colors, gears, and bells strung on gold chains, various bits of wiring and tubing connecting the mask to their body. There were more chains, bells, and crystals draped around their neck and shoulders, tangling with black strands of wet hair. An uncomfortable number of wires and tubes snaked through the folds their robes making them resemble a coma patient on life support.

"Hello again, Raoul," they said politely.

"I thought you said you weren't going to be able to talk to me again?"

Presser shrugged, the chains faintly jiggling. "I thought so too. Then Soundwave suddenly decided to be 'gracious' enough to let us pop back in officially."

"Really?" asked Hellrider. "And why would he do that? Aren't you trying to talk me into staying a human?"

"Actually, we aren't," said Presser softly. "We are simply trying to explain to you what your options are and beat into that thick skull of yours the seriousness of this situation. Whether you decide to become a robot or remain a human is completely your choice, Raoul."

"And I've made up my mind," he replied. "I want to remain Hellrider."

"Even though this decision will cost you not just your own peace of mind and freedom but also destroy the lives of at least three innocent people?"

"According to you," Hellrider said in a quiet tone. "The future's not set in stone, is it?"

"Not exactly. Our predictions are based on a combination of hyper advanced mathematics, study of quantum entanglements, the observations of how people behave, and just abusing the fact that we are literally a god to peek into multiple universes to see what happens."

"So Nichole and her kids have a chance to live perfectly happy lives without me, right?"

"To be brutally honest, no. No they never do. At least one the children are fated to encounter our kind and have their lives drastically altered by that meeting, both for good and ill."

Hellrider laughed. "Hey, that ain't so bad! I mean, it happened to me and now things are looking up!"

"Is that so?"

Hellrider thought a moment, then hesitantly said, "Yeah. I mean, they might might meet somebody like Tracks and… and…"

"Tracks is an Autobot and literally used to be a nanny for extremely 'difficult' charges. He's also a deeply closeted xenophile. You had the best possible luck to run into him first instead of, say, Sunstreaker or Springer…"

"So what?" huffed Hellrider. "Maybe they'll…"

"Let us start with Verity," said Presser in hollow tone, cutting him off with a wave of their hand. "She is doomed to lose practically everyone she's ever cared about after meeting our kind in the universes where she ends up encountering Cybertronians first. Along her journey, she suffers in ways most humans cannot even fathom but does become a stronger person for it. While Verity does eventually end up having a 'happy ending' that sees her finally reuniting with her mother, she never sees her brother again."

"But she ends up happy, doesn't she?"

Presser shrugged. "Maybe. Honestly, we never really stuck around long enough to see what happens to Verity after she goes home. But we do want to make it clear that she didn't have go through all that shit in the first place if you'd been there."

"So then you don't know if she found her brother Manny then, do you?" hissed Hellrider.

"We know she doesn't because Little Manny almost always is dead by then," said Presser softly. "He goes on a disturbingly violent crime spree that starts when his 'best friend' Chris tries to leave not only their gang but Manny for a girl and ends with his suicide. It always ends with Chris and many innocent people dying, too. And these are the universes where Manny doesn't become a Godmaster and get Fangry's cloned body as his transtector…"

"Why am I so important?" snapped Hellrider. "I mean, what if Nichole's husband survived and…"

"He never does." Presser's voice was flat yet sharp like a razor. "That has proven to be a rare moment of true predestination. Manny Sr. always ends enlisting in the military and if that man doesn't get killed in combat, then he dies in a training accident or in some other way while on duty and away from his wife just long enough that there could be some reasonable doubt about Manny Jr.'s paternity. And, no, there's not a damn thing that can be done to save the guy. Trust us. We already tried."

Pulling onto the ramp leading into Praxus, Hellrider asked, "Why do you even give a shit? I mean, you say you're the Devil. You can't just be trying to help the Carlos out of the kindness of your blackened little heart. So what's in it for you, Devil Zodiac?"

"Well, we do this in part for the same reason we are even bothering to try and save your stupid ass: We pity them." Presser leaned back with a sigh, surprising Hellrider to notice how light and fragile their body seemed. "Given the circumstances of my murder, I wound up fused into what is called the Devil Zodiac. Before this, we had been meditating upon our various plans and trying to figure out why all our endeavors kept ending in catastrophic failure. We initially planned to make Presser another servant, a puppet to be used and discarded when it ceases to be useful to us… but then I started pointing out some of the flaws in our plans. And so we talked, deciding that it may be in our mutual best interests to merge ourselves, especially with the very race of beings who are to be the key to our master plan. We will explain more later. First, we feel it important to give you a bit of history about ourselves and the forgotten tainted world we were imprisoned upon."

"Tainted world?" asked Hellrider, slowing down to better enjoy the scenery. "You know, that's kind of a loaded term with the more religious types. Something about them being cursed or shit like that. A few of them even claim they're gateways to the Pit of Hell itself."

"Hilariously, there are many who live on the very world we speak of who'd heartily agree with that sentiment…" Presser laughed, gesturing up with their right hand and down with the left while making what looked the benediction. "As below, so above… But there are just as many who would call it Paradise. That is a debate that we shall save for another time. For now, let us talk of the past and start with the world called Gaia. Whether it is tainted world or not depends upon how one views the Chaos Bringer's involvement in the creation of the Oracle. There are many versions of the myth, but one of the least spoken of is that the Lord of Light decided to create a receptacle for all the divine wisdom and asked his brother, the Chaos Bringer, to help. Together they fused their essences to form what is called the Oracle. But, as often happens in families, the brothers eventually had a falling out that ended with them going to war that ended with the Lord of Light driving his brother out, wounding the Chaos Bringer gravely in the process. Then again, the Lord was equally injured from these battles to the point he eventually feel into a divine coma."

"That… sounds familiar…" said Hellrider. "I've heard that 'Gaia' thing talked about a lot by the hippie-dippy jackasses… And for all his talk about hating such 'primitive' ideas, Shockwave does keep a surprisingly large number of religious texts… I've read a lot of them because, well, apparently being a robot means you really don't need to sleep very much so I decided to just read to pass the time. I mean, I had been indulging in enough self-abuse to I should be the blindest guy in the universe, but I eventually got bored jerking off. Besides, I started getting creeped out because… eh, well… it always felt like somebody was watching me… And, like I said, I'd gotten bored with it so I quit."

"As one does…" hummed Presser in amusement. "Did you try asking one of your new 'friends' for a helping hand or two?"

"Yeah. I tried to hit up Bombshell to see if he was down to play 'strict teacher/naughty student', but he turned me down flat. Kind of panicked about it, to be honest… Scrapper did the same, but Hook said he'd be down… and bailed for some reason he wouldn't tell me. Got to the point I broke down and begged Firefly to do me a solid. But he turned me down too. But at least he explained it was because…" Hellrider paused as he recalled the uncomfortable little encounter he just had earlier with Soundwave and a lot a nasty little things clicked into place.

"Because…?"

Hellrider sighed, stiffening a bit. "According to Firefly, I'm Soundwave's 'pet project' and he didn't want anybody 'tampering' with me. Which is stupid as hell, 'cause he ought know I ain't some blushing little virgin anymore!"

"Your new body still has it's seals," said Presser. "Seals are a very important thing culturally and 'breaking the seal' is seen by some sects as being a sacred act."

"So it's like marriage?"

"Not exactly," said Presser. "It'll be 'sex slave' in your case. But that isn't the point now. You were mentioning that you took to reading when jerking off had finally failed you, but why? Surely your had other things to pass the time when you weren't studying or training."

"No," said Hellrider. "I was bored shitless I sure as hell don't know how to get high, so I had to do something. I've made it most of the way through the Great Archives, too!" He smiled proudly, then frowned. "At least, the parts that Needlenose allows me to see, at any rate… Because apparently those are his archives and Needlenose is a little bureaucratic bitch on a power-trip who hates me for no reason!"

"Actually, he has a reason. His older brother is in love with you," said Presser simply.

"And that's a good reason?!"

"We only said he had a reason. We never said it was a good or logical one," Presser said in a dry tone.

Hellrider huffed in frustration. "I never even knew he had a brother! I assumed Needlenose had no life outside of being a pencil-pushing stooge. I don't even think I've ever meet his brother…"

"You have. You know him very well, in fact, as he's an Autobot. As for why they don't get along (aside from the obvious…), eh, well… Needlenose has some very troubling issues with his brother. And, because he was (hehe) nosy enough to find out your true identity after being told the same lies they gave you, he knows who you really are. And that's why he absolutely hates your guts, Raoul. But let us table that discussion. You mentioned you've had some knowledge of Cybertronian religion, correct?"

"Yeah. The main church seems a lot like Catholicism, so it's not too different from what I grew up with. I'm still not too sure if I'm a believer or not, but it does make a lot of sense. Then there's the fact Scrapper keeps offering to let me join in the little prayer circle he and some of the other guys have in dedication to Solus Prime. She reminds me of the Virgin Mary from the way Scrapper explained it. Maybe, when I finish with this transition, I might take him up on the offer…"

"Huh. Interesting," hummed Presser. "But we're getting off track. You see, as the Chaos Bringer wondered the universe, his essence fell upon many worlds and, as it was divine, it did strange things to those world and all life upon them. Often, this lead to their destruction as they were consumed by the Chaos Bringer, but a tiny number managed to survive this brush with divinity. The planet Gaia ended up one of the truly rarefied worlds where the essence of the Chaos Bringer had not only benefited the planet's own growth but gave all the life upon it a unique quality that grants them to some extremely useful attributes. This is especially noticeable in the most numerous sentient lifeforms native to Gaia, who have proven to be extremely hardy, incredibly clever if disturbingly stubborn, and shockingly fecund. They also have a very interesting anatomy that lend itself readily to manipulation. In fact, mutations are very common among them. This ranges from the relatively minor like the unusual coloration caused by Chroma Syndrome or the potent powers caused by the 'X-gene'. They can even randomly produce specimens that a highly receptive to beneficial post-natal mutation from random events like exposure to multiple types of radiation or accidentally being bitten by a modified spider."

Slamming his brakes painfully, Hellrider came to a halt in the middle of the road. "Earth! You're talking about Earth!"

"Yes. Yes we are," said Presser mildly. They took the hint when Hellrider's door swung open to let them step out and over to the curb.

Transforming, Hellrider quickly grabbed Presser and held them up to his eye level. "The Chaos Bringer is one of the names for Unicron. Who is Robot Satan! You are seriously not fucking telling me Earth was created by Satan!"

"Actually, no." Sighing, Presser went limp to the point they could easily slip from his grasp. They floated there, arms crossed in annoyance. "To begin with, Unicron isn't quite the same as the Judaeo-Christian idea of Satan. Nor is Primus the same as Jesus or God. In fact, when we refer to them as 'brothers', that's even more inaccurate since they're really two sides of the same god while being individual beings in their own right. Primus is the god as Creator, while Unicron is the god as Destroyer. This thing shows up a lot in so many cultures, with the best example we can give you being the Hindu pantheon. We will spare you one incredibly lengthy explanation and possibly an aneurysm by saying that while Primus and Unicron are both the same god, they are also very separate entities with conflicting agendas."

"But what does this mean for Earth?"

Presser tilted their head, saying in a sarcastic tone, "Why do you even give a shit? I mean, you want to cast aside your humanity to become a Cybertronian. You can't really care about the life you have or whoever was in it enough to be bothered by this revelation. What does it matter Hellrider if Raoul's world was a tainted one?"

"I got family, asshole!" Hellrider snapped back. "And friends. And… and there's a lot of innocent people there too."

"There are many who would say that nothing of a tainted world is 'innocent'," said Presser in a gentler tone. "They would destroy not only such a world but also anything connected to it. We have known of whole galaxies laid to waste simply because there was a rumor that a tainted world might exist within them. To them, the eradication of Unicron is a holy crusade."

"Sounds like the same kind of bullshit as the Accords."

"It is."

"I'm sorry, what?" said Hellrider. "I thought all your talk about Unicron and tainted worlds was a religious thing."

"It is."

"But the Tyrest Accords are some kind of bureaucratic bullshit," Hellrider said in confusion. "That's the government's business, because I might not have paid too much attention in class but I know there's a separation between church and state."

"As someone who has had the great misfortune of dealing with American politicians in my prior life as an engineer and computer programmer, I know that statement to be one of the biggest lies taught in US schools," replied Presser in a bitter hiss. "And, more relevantly, we have to say it is nearly impossible to keep religion out of politics when your entire civilization is built upon your god. As Cybertron is."

Hellrider frowned. "So it's like Vatican City?"

"No. We mean Cybertron literally is Primus."

"Like, symbolically?"

"No. His literal body is Cybertron and the moons are His most trusted servants."

"Wait," said Hellrider as it started to sink in. "Are you seriously telling me that the planet is literally God incarnate?"

"Yes."

"And yet there's still guys like Shockwave who aren't just atheist, but militantly so. He's literally living on God but keeps saying He doesn't exist. How the fuck is that possible?"

"Magic is simply technology that we do not yet understand," said Presser. "To paraphrase, that is."

"That's, uh… Bradbury, right?"

"Clark," corrected Presser. "But I say this to explain how Shockwave and others can reconcile that Cybertron is Primus yet also hold that there are no 'real' gods, nor proof of anything 'supernatural'. To them, beings like Primus and Unicron… and ourselves, too, are nothing more than ancient examples of super advance technologies now lost to the modern world. We are to be studied and dealt with carefully to avoid any unfortunate consequences, yes, but they have no reverence for us."

"So how does all this relate to you, little ghost of dampness and spite?" asked Hellrider, pointedly trying to get away from the uncomfortable topic of living gods and what that meant for his own faith.

"Actually, both Primus and Unicron are technically in comas right now. And, yes, we get that this is kind of serious crisis of faith for you, so we'll humor you and get back to our own origins," Presser said as they started gently floating down the sidewalk and gesturing for Hellrider to follow. "We'll talk as we walk to garden…"

"Of Gethsemane?"

"The Helix Gardens, but close enough for our purposes."

"You said something about being imprisoned on Earth," Hellrider said softly, glad that Presser kept a very slow pace so he could enjoy the beauty of the city that even the eerie stillness couldn't diminish. "How did that happen?"

Presser laughed. "It begins with the Oracle, born of Primus who was the incarnation of wisdom. During the brother's little spat, Unicron destroyed their physical body but dying Primus gave up his chance to live on in the Creation Matrix, instead placing them into it with the last of his power before dying. In gratitude for this sacrifice, the Oracle then resurrected Primus as Cybertron and transformed his body into a verdant world and created many forms of life, including a civilization of sentient beings who were favored by Primus as his first 'children'… much like Earth but more Utopian. And then the Quintesson invasion happened."

"I read about that," said Hellrider. "They took over, then turned the Cybertronians into slaves."

"Not exactly," Presser said. "The Quintessons were slavers, yes, but what they enslaved was the Oracle after capturing the Creation Matrix early on in the invasion. They went on to commit genocide against the first children of Primus, driving the survivors far into the depth of Cybertron. During their purge of the 'demons', the Quintessons captured both the Key to Vector Sigma and the Well of Allspark, which they studied along with the Oracle. In the process, they ripped the Oracle from the Matrix and trapped them into the Vector Sigma while using the now vacant Matrix as a repository for their own knowledge. With this, the Quintessons made the breakthroughs that allowed them to fully terraform Cybertron into a more 'suitable' factory world and produce a highly customizable slave race."

"Wait. You tell me that Transformers weren't created by Primus?"

"No. They are also Primus' children," said Presser in a mild tone. "They were fashioned by the Sacred Implements, which are literally pieces of Primus. But the details are relatively unimportant for our current discussion. What matters is that after the Cybertronians threw off the yoke of slavery and drove the Quintessons out, they realized that the Matrix held not only the knowledge of the Oracle but also that of their former masters. So, seeking to rid themselves of every trace of the Quintessons, they used the very same methods that Quintessons used to tear the Oracle from in to purge the Matrix of all the 'corrupted' energies. Methods that were excruciating in ways no mortal being should ever even imagine."

"And how do you know?"

"Because that is how we were born," Presser replied, tone still mild but painfully sad. "We were torn from the womb, so to speak, and hurled out into the vast emptiness of space. Our fetal forms drifted for countless eons, forsaken…"

"And alone?"

"No. We have a sibling…" Sighing, Presser came to a stop as they glided over to Hellrider to perch upon his shoulder, staying quiet for a long while before saying hesitantly, "I clung to them and they to me as we wandered aimlessly through the Universe. Together, we saw wonders and terrors of all kinds. They were creator to innumerable worlds. We destroyer to just a many. Together, we birthed galaxies, cultivated civilizations, and made the gods of countless pantheons. They were the 'angel', and we the 'devil'. Together, we were the God Zodiac."

"So what happened?" asked Hellrider, continuing on towards the gate in a high wall surrounding a noticeable clearing.

"We ran into Unicron, still bleeding from the wounds Primus gave him."

"For real?" asked Hellrider as he double checked that they were heading right way but guessed that the Garden was part of a 'gated communities'. Idly, he wondered if he'd get turned back by an automated rent-a-cop even knowing he was basically alone in the simulation with just Presser. "I take it that shit didn't go well, did it?"

"Actually, at first, things were wonderful," Presser said in that strange sad voice. "We were mere children. Neither of us knew better and when Unicron offered to 'help' us, we happily accepted. With his protection, the two of us undertook a project to fashion the 'perfect creation'. All Unicron asked was to have our prototypes for his own, which we gladly agreed to. So Unicron gave us a safe haven as I gathered the components for our angel to work with. Then came the day we finished our masterpiece. We were so pleased and wanted to share our delight with Unicron. But Unicron, being Unicron, demanded that we hand over our creation so they could serve the Chaos Bringer. Naturally, we refused and Unicron not only tore our newborn creation to pieces, but he hurled those pieces down onto a tainted world he'd happened to pass on. Then he mangled our angel before hurling their broken remains onto the same world. We managed to fight back for a while, but eventually succumbed to our wounds before suffering the same fate as our angel."

"That's how you got to Earth, huh?"

"Yes."

"So you and your brother…"

"Sibling," said Presser sharply. "Neither ourselves nor the angel have genders."

"Sorry. You and your sibling both got the shit beat out of you by Robot Satan, who hurled you both back out into the void of space and wound up crashing to prehistoric Earth with the body parts of your dead incest baby…"

"Incest has some… unfortunate overtones, Raoul…" came the angry growl.

"You seriously referred to your sibling as 'our angel'. You both spent god knows how many eons with just each other for company. It'd be a stretch for me to not assume you were fucking each other."

Presser only growled louder, eyes and mouth glowing dangerously bright. Then they fell into a sullen silence before finally sighing. "Okay. So maybe you are correct with that assumption. But we must remind you that we are gods and the rules about relations with one's own… uh, relations aren't quite the same as with mortal beings."

"So what's your plan now? You going after Unicron or what?"

"Later," said Presser. "First, we must rebuild the Godmaster and resurrect our sibling. Then we will deal with our darling uncle…"

"You mentioned that Godmaster thing before when talking about Manny," said Hellrider. "What's the deal with that? Are you planning to use that kid to make it?"

"Actually, he, Bullhorn, and Cancer are technically more like 'spare parts' since none of them will have developed their powers to the level that the primary ten Godmasters. Which is why they called the 'Headmaster Juniors'."

"Sounds like a bunch of kids."

"The oldest of them is Nick, who in 2020 is the very same age you are now when we first contact him." Presser made a little humming noise, then added, "Well, he's that age in most of the universe we contact him and make him the offer. But one of the little things I suggested we try doing this time is avoid allowing a bunch of teenagers with barely developed brains and poor impulse control to become super-powered cyborgs with even more powerful transtectors. So this go around, we did a little fudging with space time and saw to it that both the Autobot and Decepticon Junior Headmasters, with the sole exception of Chen Juan, will be in their twenties. Which not only makes for less stupid minions, but also means their Chōkon Power will have more time to… 'ripen' so to speak, making them far more useful."

"Chōkon Power? What the hell is that?"

"It's a complicated, nuanced subject, but to sum it up: Chōkon Power, or Ten-Chi-Ji, loosely translates to 'Super Soul Power' and is basically the animating force of all life in existence. The specific form that exists on Earth is exceptionally powerful and, with discipline and training, humans can use it to gain super powers."

"Oh, so it's that chi stuff those martial arts guys are always talking about, right?" Hellrider asked as they finally arrived at the gate.

"Yes."

"So that shit's real?"

"Yes."

Hellrider nodded, looking thoughtfully at the grim gate before them. "And is that why you had me training with Firefly?"

"That was more Soundwave and Shockwave want to turn you into a covert operative and potentially even a double-agent against the Autobots. Which is part of the reason why they gave you a car alt mode," said Presser. "We wanted to make you a model with flight capabilities like a helicopter or a some kind of civilian plane, but Soundwave was… insistent that you be a Lamborghini."

"Then why not a Ferrari? Shit, I'd love to be a Testarossa…" hissed Hellrider as he inspected the gate and tried to find a way to get it open. "Or a Ford? Or, hell, a Porsche?! It's working out for Jazz and he's basically the Axle Foley robot. I'd love to wake every morning and see that kind of bodywork in the mirror…" He sighed, glancing down at his own chest with a frown. "Not this piss-poor piece of cheap trash!"

"If it makes you feel any better," said Presser with a little giggle. "Jazz doesn't get to see that either. Doesn't see anything, to be honest."

"You'd have to be blind not to!"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"He's blind."

Hellrider stared at them for a moment. "Bullshit."

"We're serious. Jazz is, by human standards, completely blind and has been so since he was 'born'," said Presser. "Granted, this isn't as much of a problem for Cybertronians since they can use things like infrared visors and sonar imaging to basically give 'sight' to the blind. In fact, most things that humans would call 'handicaps' can be corrected for or mitigated as its relatively easy to install software and/or hardware to compensate."

"Huh…" Giving up on trying to figure out the gate, Hellrider sighed and stretched as he sized up the wall. "Yet another reason to give up being human. You know, the more I talk to you, the more I'm see that there's no point but to become a robot and get on living my best life."

"There are just as many reasons not to," grumbled Presser. "And, before you start climbing up the walls, might I suggest that you touch there."

Hellrider did as he was told, pressing a finger firmly on a slight dent in the gate, causing something inside to faintly whir. There were a series of loud thumps like massive bolts sliding back and then the gate split in half as it opened into cavernous room that reminded him of what would happen if somebody mashed together a museum gift shop with a super fancy arcade. He walked in with Presser still on his shoulder, glancing at the brightly flashing screens and vending machines lining the walls. The whole place gave off a feel that it should have been crowded with people, locals and tourist alike. But as the gate thumped shut behind them, the echoes of his footstep rang sharp and hollow as he moved further in.

"This is fucking creepy," he muttered, stepping up to one of the vending machines. He watched the cartoon lightning monster dance it's programmed little dance as it sang the company jingle for something called 'Kremzeek'. He watched the loop a few more times then cautiously tapped a button. He was a bit surprised to see it ask him to swipe for verification of his age, but ignored that and, carefully slipping a needle into what he guessed was the coin slot, did a little wiggling and a tiny override until the machine registered both verification and payment for whatever a 'Kremzeek' was and dropped a canister into the slot.

"You should be more careful with those," said Presser as he took the canister to inspect it closely. "Finger-needles are very delicate and hard to repair, especially nowadays."

"Because of the war?" Hellrider asked, popping the tab and eyeing the fizzy yellow liquid cautiously.

"That… and there's the fact that Megatron hates mnemosurgeons." Presser paused then added, "Actually, almost all the Decepticons hate them."

"So? Lots of guys don't like the doctor," he grumbled, taking a tentative sip then frowned. "This taste like carbonated Tang mixed with coconut oil."

"Yeah, that's the original formulation," said Presser. "We guess 'fizzy, oily Tang' is the closet approximation of its flavor to a human palate. It's also basically a Rum and Coke made with the original Coca-Cola."

Hellrider looked at the can thoughtfully. "Like, before they pulled that 'New Coke' bullshit? Don't get me wrong, the stuff they're calling 'Classic' in the US ain't real Coke either since they switched sugar for corn syrup, but at least it don't taste like you just reamed Satan's asshole."

"I mean Coca-Cola as it was originally created, with straight cocaine!"

"Seriously?"

"Yes," said Presser with a little nod. "That stuff is basically the Cybertronian equivalent a cocaine-caffeine-booze cocktail. You could get royally wasted on just a couple of cans."

"Well, in that case…" Grinning, Hellrider chugged the rest of that can before he went over to one of the kiosks that had souvenirs for a tote bag. Then he went back to the vending machine and, after a few delicate flicks of a finger-needle, got the door open and emptied it out.

"We'd question your logic in getting shitfaced right now…" grumbled Presser as they watched him shotgun another canister. "But given our own experiences with Soundwave, we fully understand not wanting to deal with the son of bitch sober."

"So what was the deal with all the hate for mnemosurgeons?" Hellrider asked as he closed the vending machine and scored a couple of shots as he threw the two empties into the trash can. "The average 'con too macho to deal with the doctor or something?"

"It's more than just a dislike of doctors. It comes from the fact that a lot of them ended up getting shadowplayed against their will as part of their 'rehabilitation'. And even undergoing the procedure consensually can be… unpleasant to say the very least…"

"Yeah, but the thing is I never actually did it to anybody," said Hellrider between more gulps of Kremzeek. "As you have pointed out, my past as Hellrider is just a lot of bullshit to cover up that I used to be human. So they ain't got any reasons to come after me."

Presser just laughed. "You think these guys give a shit? You're kitted out as a mnemosurgeon. That's good enough for these bastards."

"Really?" asked Hellrider as he crushed the now empty can and tossed it into another trash can. "So they'll jump me for that?"

"Actually, being 'jumped in' is standard initiation into the Decepticons."

Hellrider rolled his eyes, popping open another can. "Oh god… You're making the 'cons sound like a gang or some shit."

"Because they are."

"Sorry, what?"

"The Decepticons are literally an army made up of gangs held together by a mutual hatred of how things were before the war and fear of pissing off Megatron," said Presser mildly. "Beating up new recruits to make them prove their worth is pretty much default induction into their ranks. Though, given that you are a very pretty boy, they might just 'offer' to let you fuck a team or two to earn your way in…"

Hellrider's expression darkened. "That ain't funny, doc…"

"Am I laughing?" replied Presser. "Forgive our presumption, but we guess you must've heard a lot of unpleasant stories, haven't you?"

"You don't talk about that shit," snapped Hellrider. "Especially not if you're a white boy…"

"Japanese," Presser corrected. "I was Japanese…"

"Sorry. But you still shouldn't talk about that shit."

"Why not? It's not like anyone can hear us here."

"You still don't talk about it," Hellrider said softly. "Trust me. I knew people that got in gangs. Some of the shit I overheard when I'd go over to those guys places to sell pot or fence shit was so fucking bad I still get nightmares. Man, I've lost of lot friends 'cause I couldn't stand what their gang-banger buddies turned them into. And the worst part was they wanted me to join up too. No offense, but I ain't ready to sell my soul to a crew who'll turn on my ass over the stupidest bullshit…"

"And yet you are just fine with becoming a Decepticon."

"No. I'm not. I… I just want to be a Cybertronian. The Autobots can't do that, so I figured I'll get the 'cons to then bail, okay?"

Presser hummed thoughtfully. "And you honestly think they will just let you go? Shockwave, Soundwave, and Starscream have all invested quite a lot of time, effort, and materials to transform Raoul into Hellrider. Do you really believe they'll just eat those losses?"

"Do I look like I give a shit?" Hellrider laughed coldly as he approached a door at the far end of the gift shop hallway. "I've stolen plenty of cars in my life. And this time, I get to keep this one."

"We can argue that you kept Tracks… technically speaking."

"So how's this one work?" asked Hellrider, ignoring that comment as he looked over the door, noticing it resembled a submarine's hatch.

"Just turn the wheel to disengage the locking mechanism for the airlock."

"Airlock? Like, one of those things one a space ship?"

"Yes. The Helix Gardens are a nature preserve and as such are heavily protected to prevent destruction of habitat."

"So this place is less Central Park, more Yellowstone?"

"Closer to a safari park, if we're being honest," said Presser as they watched Hellrider turn the wheel. "Much of the Gardens are considered 'safe' to walk through, but there are large areas normally kept close to the general public both to keep them preserved as much as possible and prevent the various flora and fauna living there from harming visitors. The Helix Gardens has a colony of morphobots and remains even now one of the primary breeding grounds for titanium moose-bot."

"Moose?" Hellrider chuckled as they stepped into the airlock. "You saying they're scared of a herd of Bullwinkles?"

"As a someone who grew up out in the middle of the fucking Yukon, I can tell you that moose are nothing like Bullwinkle. Those things are huge, Raoul. As in, they can look into a full-sized truck huge. And really bad tempered, especially when it's mating season…"

Stifling a laugh, Hellrider just rolled his eyes and started towards the other door. He didn't like the way the one they just came through automatically shut and sealed itself, but that quickly left his thoughts as a glittering mist started to rise up from the grates on the floor. "Whoa! What the hell is this?!"

"It's just a cloud of cleaner nanites," said Presser as an androgynous voice said something about 'decontamination'. "Given the nature of the Helix Gardens, it's standard protocol to get a deep cleaning before entering and after leaving. This is mainly to prevent visitor from tracking various kinds of spores in and out, as well as keep any crystal seeds contained inside."

"Crystals?"

"You'll see in a moment."

"I'll take your word for this…" Hellrider grumbled as he walked through the mist, cringing at the odd tingling it made across his body.

"Decontamination complete. Have a nice visit to the Helix Gardens!" purred the voice as the locks of the door before them released with a clang.

"Uh, thanks," said Hellrider as he spun the wheel and pulled the door open with a hiss.