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.

7. Stage 01-07: Sidereal

Note: Upfront warning about triggering subject matter, including but likely not limited to body dysmorphism, self-harm, body horror, substance abuse, and grooming of a minor.

As he stepped onto the threshold and looked out at the Gardens, he gasped at the sight before him. "Holy…"

There was path of anodized metal stretch like a rainbow into the distance from him, surrounded on all sides by towering spines of blushing and milky opal with varying depths of softly luminescent translucence. As he took a few awestruck steps forward, Hellrider made out smaller clusters of crystals in every imaginable color that were like flowers along with tubes, wires, and thin membranes of plastic that resembled the plants he was familiar with. Then he noticed that many of the crystals, from the tiniest drops on fine wire vines to towering spires, had distinctive patterns that wound into a myriad of helices or spirals. He continued on, glad that Presser stayed silent so he could properly take in the outrageously beautiful place they'd stumbled into. He wandered along the paths for what felt like eternity, drinking and occasionally stopping to sit a while by one of the many fountains rising from the ground like fossilized seashells to study the strange corkscrew arrangements of chrome and prismatic glass pipes bubbling with orange liquid in a plaza or to listen to the surreal harmonies they made along with the naturally occurring wind-chimes that sounded at the lightest touch the soft breezes. Then slowly, with the insidious creep of a trip going severely wrong, Hellrider heard the droning again as he felt that especially haunted fear break through the buzz of the Kremzeek.

"What's wrong?" asked Presser when they climbed up the twisting stairs of an observation tower. "You seem troubled."

"There's nothing here…" he said quietly, leaning on the railing the hung out over a deep gouge of spikes as it finally hit him. "There's no people. There's no animals. There's… there's nothing."

"But were not the cities you traveled through the same?"

"Yes… But this…" He gestured out over the stillness of the Gardens as he forced himself to keep his shit together and not start ranting madly. "This place should be alive. There should be people walking around, couples on dates, joggers doing their daily laps, vendors and old farts playing chess or whatever… But this? This is just fucking wrong."

"Because this is makyō, Raoul," Presser said gently. "This is the 'uncanny land' of illusion that one stumbles into sometimes while mediating. It's can also broadly mean the attachment one has for everyday experience, but the first meaning better fits what you're feeling."

Hellrider stared out across the Gardens to the distant crest of the wall and the towers looking down on them. He could even see the dim bulk of Shockwave's Tower as it stood above all the others. After a long moment of thought, he asked softly, "What's this place look like?"

"Uh, like this?"

"No. I mean, what's this place look like now. How does it look after the war came? What does Cybertron look like today?"

"You sure you want to see?"

"Yes."

"You sure?" Presser asked again. "It's not very pretty…"

"Yes. I want to see."

"Very well. Give us a moment…"

Hellrider waited quietly, frightened but eager to see.

"There," said Presser as they floated out in front of him. "Now, are you certain you wish to see?"

"Yes."

"Very well…" said Presser as they moved to the side with a sweep of their arm, causing the chains and crystals to glimmer in the perpetual twilight as the drone came again. "And when he had opened the second seal, I heard the second beast say, Come and see."

For a moment, nothing seemed to be happening but everything went silent and then there was suddenly an explosion of life all around. The sights and sounds of people going about their everyday lives came as a shock to him after having wandered for so long through the formerly empty world. Hellrider actually smiled as he turned around to see the Gardens patrons milling about, even if they were just translucent ghosts.

"And there went out another horse that was red…" Presser said gently as they looked to the sky.

Hellrider followed their gaze and his delight vanished at those words as he noticed alien jet fighters cutting across the sky, flying far too low for comfort. At the forefront, he could see Starscream, his colors gaudy even though they were like ghosts too, as they closed in on the city. The ghosts of Praxus saw them too, but seemed to think they were some kind of aerial show or something as they pointed and laughed.

They were not ready when the first bombs hit.

"And power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another…"

Hellrider stood frozen as he watched the grisly scene silently unfold as the Seekers launched their attack on Praxus, laying waste to hundreds with bombs before ground troops stormed in to start picking off the survivors. One of the worst moments was seeing a young couple, who'd been acting like a pair of newlyweds just moments before, get cornered against the rail beside where he stood by a familiar blue Seeker.

Thundercracker leveled his gun at the cowering pair and shot through the both of them without any emotion at all. It was only then that Hellrider suddenly realized just how massive and terrifying the guy actually was even compared to other robots. The rest of the Seekers had similar builds but there was something especially strange about the detachment in his manner that frightened Hellrider more. The way he killed was wasn't like the rest of the Decepticons, who took sadistic joy in the slaughter. In him there was no passion, no malice. Just a cold, distant professionalism like the real heavy hitters who ran with the bikers his uncle hung around, their hollow laughter, grim smiles and dead eyes long burned into little Raoul's memories.

Even though he guessed Presser had muted the sounds to spare him some of the horror, Raoul knew on a deeply primal level just watching him that Thundercracker would have the same gravelly deep, politely bored voice as Uncle Mitch's good friend, the late Lucky Chucky the Tourniquet Man, even right down to the thick Brooklyn accent. The guy even looked enough like him that it sent Raoul back to his childhood of sitting around the old monster's living room playing with his youngest grandson Jimmy while his uncle was out chasing skirts again. For the most part, Chucky was a good enough guy and saw the boy like an honorary member of his family but was prone to rambling about his 'glory days' in the Angels after a beer or two. Raoul could still hear his 'stories', tone cracking with the rasp of a dedicated chain-smoker who still drank his coffee with speed and whiskey as he confided in the boys about what his life was before age forced him to 'retire'. The stories had always confused Raoul and Jimmy, though they both thought the gory bits were kind of cool even if he used to think Chucky was just bullshitting them, until he got old enough to put the pieces together and realize the old monster had been telling them had been the 'kid friendly' version. And, like the old bastard, Thundercracker was more than capable of dishing out carnage without a hint of emotion.

But what really disturbed Raoul was also suddenly realizing that all this just made the Seeker so much more attractive to him now.

He finally managed to turn away, disgusted at himself for that creepy little epiphany as Thundercracker took to the air again and watched as several other jets followed him back out to the city proper, only to watch as many buildings came crashing down in fiery wreckage. He even faintly made out hundreds-maybe even thousands-of bodies hurled from the towers as the Decepticons rampaged through the city, creating a rain of corpses… At least, he hoped they were dead before being thrown off those gut-turning heights. Hellrider stared numbly as the devastation of Praxus continued, finally ending when the city was a mangled corpse of it's former beauty.

"And there was given unto him a great sword," said Presser, gesturing back over the chasm to point out the erratic flashes of missile strikes as the rest of Cybertron fell to the Deceptions.

As he watched the far towers of Iacon and Vos topple amid the occasional clouds of nuclear blasts, Hellrider leaned heavily against the now badly damaged railing. The battles raged for what seemed to be forever until Cybertron finally went still again. The bodies vanished over time, either to deterioration or, more commonly, being scavenged for parts before the remains were taken to the smelting pools. As he looked on, Hellrider saw a few new buildings appear with grim facades and a very militaristic feel to them. The only thing that hadn't changed much was Shockwave's Tower, though now it was surrounded by even thicker swarms of surveillance drones that reminded Hellrider of glossy flies bloated on the corpses.

The Helix Gardens had survived the bombings and massacres relatively intact, though now it was overgrown and had a threatening atmosphere as strange vines creep in and out of the crystal forest.

"Not very pretty, was it?" Presser said.

"This was a mass murder…"

"Yeah. Basically."

"Why the fuck didn't you show me this before?!"

Presser sighed. "Well, we thought about doing it while we were in Praxus proper. The killing was much more intense and prolonged there. But you've already got enough PSTD with us adding that on. The Decepticons had little love for Praxus, given it's status as home to the elites of Cybertron. So it suffered the brute of their wrath. Trust us. What you saw here was bad. But what happened outside the Garden was worse."

"They murdered all those innocent people," hissed Hellrider. "They… They said this was a revolution. Said they were… were doing it for people… Fighting for freedom! But they just killed everybody!"

"Actually, the Decepticons aren't killing everybody," said Presser dryly. "The dead were the lucky ones… Well, as long as the Battlechargers don't get to them… Or so we've heard. Praxus just had the bad luck of being 'useless' and 'symbolic of the autocrats who'd failed Cybertron' according to his most esteemed Lord Megatron, so it had to burn. Usually, the Decepticons wanted to preserve or salvage as much as they could, from materials to buildings… and people. They were especially keen of getting skilled workers, like scientists and medics, and use various methods like brainwashing, coercion, and shadowplay to make the most 'useful' neutrals (and even Autobots) into good little Decepticons. Those who weren't able to prove their worth, annoyed Megatron, or otherwise refused to bow to the Decepticons end up target practice, slaves, or worse…"

"What could be worse that slavery?"

"Oh, there are so many horrible fates that lay in wait for fools like you, Raoul! Let me tell you one should you continue down this path," said Presser grimly, glaring through the sockets of the goat skull mask. "You will meet the Terrorcons. A team made up of Hun-grr, a gluttonous dragon, Rippersnapper, a stuck-up prick, Cutthroat and Sinnertwin, who can best be described as the rapist hillbillies from Deliverance, and Blot, who is… Blot. And they combine to form Abomnius, a rampaging murder giant who can only politely be called 'rabid'. And they're all also buddies with Sixshot, a phase-sixer who really does not like Overlord for a variety of reasons."

"And this is my problem how…?"

"Overlord's already adopted you as a surrogate son," mutter Presser. "And phase-sixers have a tendency to hate each. Overlord was especially prone to treating his 'peers' very poorly. And he really has a grudge with Sixshot over several incidents, not the least him being a continuous cockblock to Overlord's attempts to duel Megatron. Which means that Sixshot is going to be more than happy to take revenge by proxy. And, if I were you, we would hope that it's Sixshot that gets to you first. Because he is a surprisingly honorable bastard and will kill you pretty quickly. Otherwise…" The little ghost made banjo noises as they mimed playing one.

"But I ain't going to stay with the Decepticons. Remember?" Hellrider laughed weakly as he started to go back the way they came. "I'm gonna let the make me a robot and then, I'm out."

"That's the thing: You won't get out." Presser's tone was still as mild as ever, but there was sadness that made it clear they already knew they had failed. "The moment you choose to renounce your humanity, that's it. This is more than simply 'blood in, blood out'. You are literally making a deal with the Devil to become like them. This is your actual soul we're talking about. Once you give that up, that's it. There will be no going back Raoul."

Hellrider laughed again, now with all the arrogance of youth as he walked slightly ahead of the little ghost. "Really? And you going to stop me?"

"No. We honestly do not give a flying shit about such petty things as 'allegiance'. We just want our Angel back and revenge upon Unicron. But as we said, the Decepticons have already sunk a lot resources into making you one of them. And Soundwave certainly won't let you go that easily."

"Fuck him! I'm going straight back the Autobots and…"

"Would they let you go back?"

"What are you talking about?" asked Hellrider, unnerved but also angry at the implications. "Course they will! Hell, I'm friends with several of them already and…"

"No," said Presser. "Raoul is a friend of the Autobots. Hellrider will be treated just the same contempt, suspicion, and hatred as any other Decepticon, no matter how sincere he's defection is."

"You act like I ain't going to explain what went down!"

"They won't believe you."

"But they're the good guys!" he barked, gingerly stepping through the wild mess of vines and cracked pavement.

"Things like 'good' and 'evil' are… relative terms."

"I mean the 'bots won't turn on a guy like that!"

Now Presser laughed, the sound ringing hollowly in counterpoint with the shrill crystals chimes. "You must understand, Raoul, that the Autobots are people. Just as the Decepticons are. And they all have their prejudices just as any other person. This war has stretched on millions of years. The Autobots learned too well to be wary of welcoming the wolf in sheep's clothing into the fold. You can't be a… how did you put it? A little bitch and run to Tracks this time… But this will be yet another conversation for later. We have once again worn out what little goodwill Soundwave felt generous enough to spare. Don't worry. You won't be alone long, Raoul. Shockwave invited in few friends who wanted to speak to you. Don't forget to listen for the music."

Before Hellrider could turn and beg them to stay, Presser had vanished. He stood there for a long time, unsure of what to do next. And he noticed something creeping along behind him as the droning returned. Presser had warned him that Soundwave was probably following him by now, but the shape didn't look like him at all. This creature resembled a saber-toothed version of those goblin things from Critters more than a robot. They moved rapidly around in a weird, jerky way like if Ray Harryhausen did scenes from Jacob's Ladder. And then he realized the goblin wasn't alone.

Staggering out into the shattered remains of a plaza, Hellrider caught sight of a couple more monsters moving in the same fast and choppy manner that had him cornered against wall of crystals. There was griffon creature staring down from the curving points of the tallest spire alongside a giggling gargoyle, a freakish rock crab creature and…

…and a very grumpy robotic wolf-lizard sitting on top of something rubbery at the edge of the ruined fountain. Hellrider had thought they were one of the many badly damaged statues left to rust till their head moved in the hideously choppy way the others did to level a glare of gouged out and gory eye sockets at him.

The gargoyle jumped down and settled beside the wolf-lizard guy, asking in Primal Vernacular with a goofy tone that reminded Hellrider of a hack comedian, "Hey! You're supposed to have your shell on!"

"Fuck that shit," replied the wolf-lizard in kind, having the decency to at least give off the aura of an old drunk who'd been forced on the wagon for far too long and just wanted to get blitzed in peace.

"But we're doing it to make our young brother feel safe!" sighed the crab creature with a voice that was way too perky for the thing it came out of, even if the guy was speaking in a dead language. They gave off an overall vibe that was less 'monster' and more 'overly friend youth minister who hosted a Bible themed kid show' (likely with the gargoyle as his 'wacky' sidekick). "We want to make him feel more comfortable as he begins the process of destroying his old organic body in the transition to a wonderful new form!"

"I am not wearing that shit, Icepick."

"Why not?" asked the griffon, descending from the spire and joining the other three.

"Because, Wildfly… FUCK YOU! THAT'S WHY!" roared the wolf-lizard angrily, confirming Hellrider's suspicion that the guy was a mean drunk who was even meaner sober.

The gargoyle winced. "You didn't have to yell, Bristleback."

"You call that 'yelling'?" hissed the goblin in a booming voice as they scurried into view. "This is yelling!"

Before they could demonstrate, the griffon had already lunged over to clamp the goblin's mouth shut. "Scowl, now is not the time. Our young brother here is upset enough as is…"

"Yes," said a deep, kindly voice from the crystals behind and just above Hellrider. "Indeed distressed our young brother is. More gently him we need treat."

Hellrider glanced up to see a reddish fish beast staring down at him as they clung to a twist in the crystal upside down.

"Greetings, young brother," they said, face pulling into what might be a smile. Then in a halting voice, as if they weren't used to talking and even less to doing so in modern Cybertronian, said, "Oh! Sorry Slog is. Do speak ancient tongue you do not, young brother?"

"I understand what you're saying," Hellrider said quietly in the ancient language, watching the fish beast as it moved in closer. "There's a lot of stuff in the archives in Ancient Cybertronian, so I learned it. Ain't like I had anything better to do when I had breaks…"

"Well, that's unusual for a young kid," said the griffon.

"It's fucking unusual for everyone these days, Birdbrain," hissed Bristleback. "Ignorant, ass-backwards morons…"

"Well, I think that's just swell!" Icepick giggled happily. "Our young brother took the opportunity to educate himself when most would have wasted their time indulging in…" His voice dropped to a stage whisper as he frowned. "In self abuse."

"Jerking off," huffed Scowl. "You can just say 'jerking off', man."

Icepick gasped in horror, making a gesture that reminded Hellrider of an old biddy clutching her rosary. "Brother Scowl! I cannot believe you would use such vulgar language especially in front of our young brother!"

"What? Masturbation is perfectly normal," grumbled Scowl, giving Icepick a nasty grin. "Does one a world of wonders to get in touch with one's self. In fact, I think some of us might benefit from having a good, long, hard—…"

"Enough, brothers," said Slog as they all took a moment to look Hellrider over. "Yes… Right Overlord the Super God was. A promising addition to the family you are."

"Uh, what are you talking about, man?" Hellrider asked with a nervous smile. "…are you a guy or…?"

"Meaningless gender is," said Slog with a grandfatherly chuckle as they hopped down to stand in front of Hellrider. "Binaries, divisions, the 'us' and the 'them'… Trivial such things are all. Trivial such things always have been. Doing the gods' work my brothers and I are. As will you, young brother. Only that matters."

"For ease of conversation, masculine pronouns are fine for all of us," said Birdbrain, sounding even more like a grumpy British teacher while rolling his eyes behind what Hellrider realized were red tinted lenses.

"Oh… thanks?" Hellrider cleared his vents nervously as he did his best to keep all of the monsters in his sight. "So, what… eh, who are you guys?"

"Monstructor are we," Slog said.

"Oh… yeah, that… that fits," said Hellrider with a weak laugh. He felt terror in a way he had never known, but realized that it would be a very, very bad idea to try running away from these guys.

Birdbrain sighed in annoyance. "What my elder brother is trying to say is that we are the Monstructor Six, who form the current body of the Night Abyss General Monstructor after undergoing experimentation at the hands of Jhiaxus…"

"Damn his foul soul to the Pit…" rasped Icepick, dropping the youth minister act as his voice became a hideous hiss befitting a serial killer.

"Yeah…" said Bristleback, somehow sounding even angrier that before. "Fuck that guy."

Wildfly nodded, but his tone stayed just as goofy as ever which was even creepier than the other two. "Yeah. And fuck Nova Prime, too!"

"…long may he rust…" drone a quiet, disembodied seventh voice.

"Yes-yes… Fuck those bastards and may they corrode forever in the depths of the Pit," grumbled Birdbrain in a bored tone, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. "Not only are we a combiner team but we also happen to be Pretenders."

"What's a pretender?" Hellrider asked.

"Pretenders are Cybertronians who conceal their robotic nature by utilize specialized external armor to—"

"It's a goddamn rubber suit," snapped Bristleback as he grabbed his own in his mouth. "We're wearing this stupid things to look like organic creatures because it's fucking scary, okay?"

"It's properly called a 'symbiotic carapace'," said Birdbrain. "Works by polydermal grafting, which will be something you shall become intimately familiar with young brother. There are plenty of benefits, like improved self-healing capabilities, armor, and it can even be piloted as a remote drone if necessary."

"There are other reasons too," giggled Wildfly. "Like how Bristleback's gonna have to wear his shell all the time on Earth cause he gets rust rash if there's too much water vapor and has severe gold plastic syndrome…"

"Kindly go gag on a thousand putrescent spikes, Wildfly."

"Worry about Bristleback's embarrassing disorders and Wildfly's (non-existent) sex life later we shall," said Slog, obviously cutting them off before a fight could start. "Worry about all such physical things later we shall. Resurrected we must be first."

"Resurrected?" Hellrider asked. "You mean, like getting born again or something?"

"No. Resurrected literally Slog means."

"Yes," said Birdbrain. "We need to be raised again before we can return to the Great Work…"

"And just what are you talking about?"

"The Super God General has not told you yet?" asked Birdbrain.

"Not allowed by Shockwave's orders," replied Slog. "Traumatizing would it be, claimed Shockwave."

"Why would he think that?" asked Hellrider, surprised that he was actually getting used to the weird feeling of dread that clung to the six. "I mean, you guys look pretty freaky but… Well, you all seem harmless. Shockwave thinks this is traumatic?"

"Oh, there's a simple reason," said Birdbrain. "See, we're dead."

As if on cue, he and the other four Monstercons removed their shells to reveal the inner robots. Mangled, corroded, and obviously brutally murdered zombie robots. The one thing that stuck out the most was that their chests had all been ripped open and the lasercore violently torn out.

"Off-putting this is, young brother?" asked Slog, voice still gentle despite coming from a nearly detached jaw. "Leave you now, we must. But sad not should you be!"

"Why?"

Birdbrain smiled, or maybe it was just a spasm stretching the ripped open sides of his cheeks a bit wider. "Because soon we will see you again. Soon you shall resurrect us, young brother."

"…yours are the hands that shall sculpt the new flesh," came that soft drone again as the six vanished like ghosts. In the distance there was a rumbling like thunder. "…you are the needle that grafts the spark to the form to give us life anew…" The ground shuddered as something massive began to move. "By your hand, we shall rise from the grave to again exult in the carnage as we sing hymns of doom and teach the apostates to fear the gods' wrath. By your hand shall ours once more burn that which should not burn, rot what should not rot, and destroy that which should not know destruction. By your hand, young brother, shall Monstructor live again."

Hellrider saw a titanic form rising up from the hazy depths of the Gardens. It strode over and closed the distance in only a few quick steps, looming above Hellrider like the wraith of a slaughtered god. The mangled titan looked down upon him, eyes empty red voids as it smiled sweetly and reached out to pick him up as if Hellrider was a little puppy.

He jerked back, sensing something desperately wrong with the titan.

"Fear no, young brother. Our touch cannot harm you… See?" The titan carefully petted Hellrider on his head to prove it. "The Devil Zodiac has granted you and our other young siblings their blessings… You are one of us now, young brother. Come to us, young brother, that we may know you. Come! We have such sights to show you, pretty one!" said the voice, terrible in it's gentleness as it held out it's hand. "…be not afraid…"

Then the world blinked like someone had just cut the lights on and off, and the titanic zombie gone. Hellrider stood there in shock for a moment, then some tiny shred of self-preservation kicked in as he transformed and hauled ass out there. He flew through the tangled mess of vines and broken pavement till at last he found the airlock they'd come in at. Hellrider managed to wrench it open and stagger in, slamming it shut behind him. The interior was pitch black since even the emergency power seemed to have been taken out in the attack, but Hellrider managed to find the other door using night-vision. It took him longer to get this one open again as it had apparently gotten hit several times by laser fire, but he finally managed to batter it down. Hellrider staggered into the wreckage of what once had been the arcade gift shop, walking numbly through the ruins as he headed to the door out.

But when he came upon the shattered remains of the Kremzeek machine besides that souvenir kiosk and saw the terribly suggestive outlines outlined in sooty shadows near them, something inside Raoul snapped. He fell to his knee, wailing and sobbing as he hugged himself, overcome with the horror that those had once been living people. Just average folks going about an average day, maybe treating themselves to a cold one with friends or buying whatever the Cybertronian equivalent of a 'I 3 NY' shirt was. These were people just the same as the ones Raoul knew. They sure as fuck hadn't done anything to deserve to die like this.

"How do you know that?" whispered a little voice.

Raoul tensed, not sure where that voice had come from.

"I'm in your head, dumbass," the voice hissed, clearly his own but somehow crueler, colder, and older. "I've always been here. See, I'm the you you want to be!"

Raoul took a deep breath, then said out loud in a still shaky voice, "No. No, you are not. I ain't doing this shit right now. I ain't gonna let a bad trip get me arguing with voices in my head…"

"And yet here we are… once again," said Hellrider with a laugh. "You're crying like a little bitch again and talking to yourself when you should be getting your shit together! It's fucking time you making something of yourself."

"No." Raoul's voice was steady now as he got back on his feet. "No, I am not doing this to myself. I know what this shit is and I ain't playing this fucking game!"

"Which one?" asked Hellrider. "You love games! Especially the 'I stupidly took some random shit again because I was bored and went on a trip only to find I got a bad batch and now I'm going to spend the rest of this shit show beating myself up yet again for being a fucking pussy who doesn't have the balls to take that final little step' game?"

Raoul closed his eyes. "Are you saying I should kill myself?"

"No," replied Hellrider. "Well, not exactly. Not this time. What I'm saying is Raoul needs to die so I can finally start living. See, I've got a name now and soon I'll have my own body. So do me a favor, asshole, and just give up so I can take over."

"You know what," hissed Raoul, laughing a bit too shrilly. "I've had so much shit thrown at me since I left the Tower that I'm fucking done with thinking any more. All I want to do is get piss drunk and maybe find a place to dance."

"And fuck?"

"Given who our only option is, I think we both know that ain't gonna happen. So how about you shut up and go back to being the wish fulfillment fantasy fueling this fucking drug induced fever dream, shitstain?"

Hellrider just growled as he actually agreed with the sentiment but didn't want to admit that to his worser half. So he opened his eyes again to see everything had gone back to the way it was before. He proceeded to shotgun the rest of the Kremzeek, only pausing to first pour a bit out in honor of the fallen innocents. When he felt the buzz coming back, Hellrider staggered out back onto the streets of Praxus. He wandered the empty alleyways and sidewalk, feeling even more like he was creeping around a tomb now after what he'd seen. And then he reached the Plaza of Lights.

As he stared out across the wide space, Hellrider felt oddly disappointed to see that the only lights were some rather dim street lamps around a square of dark gray panels. Then he stepped onto one of the panels, causing it to glow brightly. He stepped off it and tried another, getting the same effect. Then, grinning as he found that Soundwave had been nice enough to include all of Micheal Jackson's albums, put on 'Billy Jean' and began to slowly dance along the plaza, making it light up to the beat.

"She was more like a beauty queen from a movie scene…"

Hellrider took it slow at first, doing a bit of simple footwork to warm up as he started singing along with the song.

"…she said I am the one…"

As he picked up the pace, Hellrider noticed that there were flickers of panels lighting up just out of the corner of his eye.

"…who will dance, on the floor, in the round?"

It was like something was behind him, shadowing his steps as he moved to the music.

"…people always told me, be careful of what you do…"

But he ignored it because it felt so good to dance again.

"…'cause lie becomes the truth…"

Hellrider did a few easy pops and jerks, then decided to go for broke and try a few downrock moves. To his delight, he found himself effortlessly dropping from suicides to windmills and spins before hopping back just as easily. He even managed to finally pull off a one-handed flare into a hollowback freeze, something he'd never been able to get right even on his best day.

"…be careful of what you do…"

Hellrider hopped to his feet, spinning on his heels with a delighted yell.

"…this happened much too soon…"

Which was when he saw who'd been behind him watching.

"She called me to her room…"

"Inquiry: enjoying yourself?" Soundwave asked, wrapping an arm around his waist to pull Hellrider close.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I am the executive administrator," said Soundwave. "I also created this simulation for you, boy."

"So you let those fucking monsters in?!" snapped Hellrider, jerking away as the music cut off.

"Monsters?" Soundwave went quiet then made an angry spitting sound. "That was not authorized. Shockwave did not clear that with me."

"And what about all this bullshit?" Hellrider said, not hiding his rage as he got up in the taller robot's facemask. "You've locked me up in a computer, trying to make me think that you bastards are actually the good guys instead of the Autobots but you're fucking lying about murdering millions of innocent people?!"

"Innocence is a subjective thing, boy," droned Soundwave, back to a calm monotone. "They stood by and let Cybertron become a place of misery, decadence, and horror for all but the most elite."

"I only got your word for that, asshole!"

"Then why not ask your 'friends' when you wake up. Many of them suffered as we did. Ask Tracks about what he did to pay off his father's debt or why Jazz never talks about either of his creators or maybe get Perceptor to tell you why he has to constantly undergo psychiatric examinations. I am certain the answers will be educational, if only to see how much they're willing to lie to save face."

Hellrider glared at him as he heard a faint shriek of guitars. "I only have your word for that. And you haven't given me any reason to trust you."

"Haven't I?" said Soundwave. "I could have allowed my subordinate to have his way and take your corpse for a trophy."

Listen… listen… listen…

"You crippled me," Hellrider growled back as he put some space between the two of them. He heard the music growing stronger to the left of him, down a narrow street. "You ordered that fucking tin turkey to cripple me."

"Correction: Buzzsaw's alt is a condor, not a turkey."

"YOU FUCKING CRIPPLED ME, YOU BASTARD!"

Soundwave went silent for a long time before he just sighed. "Yes. A certain amount of damage was required for the process to make the necessary changes. Severity was not meant to be as extreme as it ended up being, but it had the positive side effect of speeding up the nanite infection. Current status and further loss of mobility does not have to be permanent but this is dependent on certain conditions being met before final determination will be made on what outcome you earn."

…emptiness in my body, I felt so alone…

"Conditions? Changes?" Hellrider hissed, stealthily edging towards the music. "What the fuck you talking about?"

"Lord Megatron has seen you have potential, boy," said Soundwave. "And since the abomination has shown itself capable of creating extremely powerful transtectors using binary bonding directly to a human, Lord Megatron has seen fit to have you rebuilt into a Godmaster. You have a lot more in common with us, Raoul, than you have with the Autobots. I am offering you the chance to have all your dreams come true. All we are asking is that you submit and prove your loyalty to the Decepticon cause."

…I saw my soul, in a magical haze…

"And what would I have to do?" asked Hellrider, fingers just grazing the corner of the wall as he heard the music growing louder.

"Kill him."

"Kill who?"

Soundwave laughed, his voice warbling with a creepy dissonance. "Kill Tracks. Kill him and cut your ties not only to the Autobots but that weak fleshy body once and for all."

…small black wings on my naked back…

Hellrider just smiled at him. "You know what: FUCK YOU!"

Bolting down the side street, Hellrider raced towards the ever swelling music as the simulation started to unravel and that red Japanese archway appeared in the distance.

Listen… listen… listen…

He could see the woods with the gravel path as he ran faster.

I'm a corpse… I'm a corpse… I'm a corpse without soul…

He pushed himself harder, straining to reach the still distant gate.

Satan… Satan… Satan… He's taken… he's taken… he's taken his toll…

Presser was there waiting with a hand held out…

…and he took it out on me…

He was so close now he could feel that dampness of the forest breeze and smell the pines.

…I… I'm trapped… I'm trapped in his spell…

Just as his fingertips grazed Presser's, something grabbed him by a doorwing and violently hurled him flat on his back.

I'm going… I'm going… I'm going to H—

"I did not dismiss you yet, boy," hissed Soundwave, breaking the silence as he stamped down hard into Hellrider's chest to pin him down.

As he lay there dazed, Hellrider saw the gate had vanished along with everything but the patch of street they were standing on and a bit of wall in an endless gray void.

"I am attempting to be 'nice', Raoul," said Soundwave as he casually hauled him up by the throat and slammed him into the wall. "Lord Megatron originally wanted you captured and tortured to death. But I pointed out that you could be more useful alive and Lord Megatron agreed."

"Before or after you got done sucking his dick?" Hellrider managed to choke out.

"Incorrect. I do not need to do that to make suggestions to Lord Megatron. I merely explained how similar you were to Rumble and Frenzy. I also pointed out that you are brave, cunning, and pragmatic by nature, which would make you a valuable addition to our faction. I reminded him we have need of medics and how your experience as a mechanic would make it easy to train you as one. I spoke to him of how you hungered for power, for glory… The burning desire to be something greater than what you are now. Lord Megatron was moved by this and agreed that you would be better off as one of us instead of an Autobot's pet."

"I'm not Tracks' pet!"

"Then what are you? 'Friend' implies a certain equality. 'Family', a degree and depth of intimacy that I fear is impossible for any Cybertronian to have for such a short lived creature as man. As for lover…" Soundwave did that freaky laugh again as he lowered Hellrider so his feet were now flat on the ground again while still keeping him in a choke-hold.

"That ain't funny…" came the miserable little sob.

Soundwave stopped laughing abruptly. "Correct. This is not funny. Tracks has kept jerking you around, making you believe you had a chance, and lied to you about little things like the fact he's married…"

"That jerk Magnus probably would have blown up Earth if he knew the big guy told me that…"

"And he's an Autobot, Raoul."

"He's a pencil-pushing piece of shit on a power trip," said Hellrider weakly. "You… you get his type everywhere. Take Needlenose, for example…"

"Yes," hummed Soundwave. "I will have to remember to have a few… words with him when he gets to Earth with the next shipment. Such petty bullying and defiance is not to be tolerated."

Hellrider laughed hollowly. "Really? What you gonna do? Beat that little shit up for being a prick?"

"Needlenose defied my direct order and interfered with your access to the Archives. I expressly instructed Shockwave that you were to be given as in-depth an education as possible before ending this simulation. A beating is the least I'm going to do to little shit." He paused, then laughed and said, "Maybe I ought to send him to see his dear old Horri-Bull…"

"The fuck?! Don't just kill the guy for being a prick!"

Relaxing his grip slightly, Soundwave huffed. "Very well. I will allow him to continue living, if that makes you happy."

Hellrider stared at him, confused and horrified. "If it makes me happy…the hell? Why are you doing this? What the fuck is in it for you?"

"Besides getting a new recruit?" said Soundwave. "Why, a lot of things! Starting with putting both Blaster and Jazz out of commission for a long, long time… If not permanently."

"How…?"

"The Conjunx Endura is a profoundly deep bond that literally is burnt into one's very spark," Soundwave said, gently brushing an oily tear off Hellrider's cheek. "The worst thing one can do is to kill one partner and leave a survivor, who'll often enter such a deep depression that suicide is actually the preferred outcome. This effect is magnified even more if one has bonded with more than one partner. The details aren't normally elaborated upon since it's a touchy subject."

"Actually, there is a lot written about it in medical texts. It's caused by a 'void signal'," said Hellrider dryly. "This rarely happens if the bond is voluntarily severed or one partner passes of natural causes. The reason a survivors become so severely depressed is because they can still feel a residual impulse of their late partner's signal in their spark, kind of like the 'phantom limb' only worse. The only reason suicide rates are so damn high is because Cybertronian mental health care basically refused to help the victims."

"It's rather hard to help someone who's literally had a piece of their soul die and are carrying the rotten remains inside."

"So why do you want me to kill Tracks?" hissed Hellrider, getting paranoid at the odd gentleness in Soundwave's drone. "Why not go after Blaster or Jazz? I'm pretty close to them, too."

"You aren't as attached to them as you are to Tracks," said Soundwave. "And there's two more reasons why it must be Tracks. First is that Blaster will die at my hands alone. And second is… well, I must be brutally honest… Jazz would kill you."

"Bullshit. He's… he's a friend…"

"And one doesn't become the head of Special Operations by letting inconveniences like 'friendship' get in the way of neutralizing a traitor," droned Soundwave. "Should I send you after him, Jazz would not hesitate to kill you. He would feel deep remorse for his actions, unlike say Prowl or Magnus, but Jazz isn't stupid. Plus there's the little fact he's had more real world combat experience than you. And, while no where near the prick Prowl is, Jazz can be a very vicious mech if you make him angry."

Hellrider let out a chuckle. "Aw, what? Is Jazz your ex or something?"

"Affirmative."

"For fucking real?" asked Hellrider, gaping in shock.

"I refuse to elaborate further," was all Soundwave said, fingers tightening again around Hellrider's neck. "This is not our concern right now. We were talking about your transition, Raoul."

"At the price of Tracks' life," he snapped back as he tried to pull away. "Yeah… thanks but no thanks."

"Do not be so quick to refuse, boy," said Soundwave, digging his fingers tighter. "Remember, I'm running this simulation. It would take me no effort to cause a terminal feedback loop to kill you right now or put you into neural prison that would effectively leave your body in a vegetative state while your mind is bound in a hell made of your worst nightmares. And I have had a lot of time to study your mind while you've been here, boy. So I'd suggest you reconsider, Raoul."

"Why? You ain't bringing nothing to the table!"

"Besides making you one of our kind, giving you the best education available to a Cybertronian, training you in various forms of combat, and offering you the chance to continue living? Is that not enough?"

"So what? You ain't given me a good enough reason to think you're going to keep your end of the bargain if I do decide to be a rat and off the only man I ever loved."

Soundwave made a strange noise, then spat suddenly.

"What? Don't you believe me?"

"Actually, I do," he said. "I am a telepath. I know for a fact that you truly feel that way about Tracks. (puttup!) As I know you have almost embraced being 'Hellrider'…"

Hellrider just chuckled again. "And here's where you gleefully tell me that Tracks doesn't love me and never did, right?"

Soundwave said nothing, only spitting again.

"Well? Tell me. You're the fucking mindreader here!"

"You would not believe me no matter what I tell you," Soundwave droned. "All I can do is offer you a small sign of good faith that I am willing to follow through on my end if you choose to accept Lord Megatron's gracious offer. In fact, we've already begun making you a harder, better, faster, stronger you! You will see the proof once you awake…"

"Oh really?" Hellrider laughed coldly. "Oh, how very kind of the old Slagger! So kind of him to streamline the torture!"

"Incorrect. This did not have to be painful, boy," said Soundwave with a sharpness to his droning tone as he started choking Hellrider again. "But you need to learn to be more grateful to be given such kindness by Lord Megatron. I think now is the perfect time to teach you respect, Raoul."

As soon as the big blue boombox let go, Hellrider tried to run. But before he could dodge, Soundwave grasped Hellrider by the wing again and slammed his fist so hard into his abdomen that Hellrider could feel his insides breaking…

…causing Raoul to jerk up violently from his bed, coughing and sputtering to the point he nearly puked. He tried to pull the rig off his head, but hands in the darkness stopped him.

"Whoa! Don't mess with that just yet," grumbled Brainstorm as he gently pushed the boy back down. "The threaders are still withdrawing, so unless you want one hell of a migraine too, just lie back down and wait."

"Already got one… And what the hell just happened?" Raoul asked, glancing around in a daze as his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room. He started hacking again, spluttering fluid into his hand as he covered his mouth. The wetness on his hand felt a bit too thick to be just snot or spit. Raoul squinted to see it in the gloom, observing that the sludge resembled used coffee grounds in texture but with a rusty, blackish color that set off alarm bells now that he knew what such a mess meant.

"You've been in a VR simulation of Cybertron run by the Decepticons," said Brainstorm casually, quickly helping to clean it off the boy's face and hands before slipping the used wipes into what might have been an evidence bag. "Apparently, they had you convinced you were a Lambo model named 'Hellrider', then trained you up as a medic and mnemosurgeon. You then managed to slip the leash long enough to have a little chat with me, and then you went and mouthed off to Soundwave. Which lead to him knocking you off with extreme prejudice."

"Huh…" Finally regaining his breath despite feeling like his whole torso had be smashed apart, Raoul forced himself to calmly ask, "How long have I been out?"

"About a joor."

"Seriously?" he said, letting Brainstorm remove the rig and dropped it on the nightstand next to a goofy metal lunchbox that Raoul knew he didn't own. "You telling me all that went down in two hours?"

"Virtual reality has no respect for the 'natural' laws of the universe," said Brainstorm, twitching his fingers for the air quotes as he sat the evidence bag down on the dresser. Then he took the data fob that came with the rig out of Tandy. He quickly opened the case, revealing more fobs along with several bundled cables and a large bottle of pills, switching it out for an identical one which he plugged into Tandy. "I'm actually surprised the 'cons didn't start throwing in random crazy shit just to mess with you. Then again, maybe they did…"

Raoul sat up, groggy and profoundly disgusted by the sensation of the autonomous functions of his body. He noticed a silent man in a dark bodysuit step out of the shadows and carefully switch the evidence bag out for a similar one while the Autobot was waking Tandy up run something before they slip into the master bathroom. Raoul wondered if the ninja guy was another Autobot, but decided not to mention it to Brainstorm and instead asked, "What do you mean by that?"

"Well," hummed Brainstorm, causally dumping the pills Raoul already had into the other bottle after running a quick scan on one to double check the dosage. "I noticed while watching you that you would just randomly start talking and otherwise interacting to empty air like there was somebody there. Or are you the kind of guy that likes talking to himself?"

Raoul said nothing as he shakily got up and went to the dresser. He was dimly aware that Brainstorm had gone off on another tangent that started with the Monstercons' origins yet quickly devolved into ranting in excruciating detail about how Jhiaxus was literally the worst scientist ever, but Raoul paid him no attention as he staggered slowly across the fluffy carpet. He glanced briefly at the massive dog watching him from under the bed, pausing to smile as the dog gave his ankle a stoic sniff.

As he lurched forward to lean on the dresser, Raoul mentally cringed in revulsion at the sluggish movements of his limbs, the viscous blood pulsating in veins, the moisture of saliva being rolled around his mouth by the fleshy slab of his sticky tongue, and the revolting gurgling as his dinner digested. He could literally feel the very meat that made up this body dying with agonizing slowness every second as he stood there. Raoul looked into the mirror, glaring at the face that looked back. It used to be his face but now…

Now all he could see was all the imperfection, every small asymmetry of his features: a nose that was a bit too broad, arching brows that were too slim for a man's face but too bushy for a woman's, and a thousand other tiny flaws. Raoul's tongue darted unthinkingly over the chapped and gummy lips, drawing attention to how they were too full and had an uncomfortably girlish pout to them as he sneered with disgusted. The teeth he saw framed by that girlish mouth were slightly crooked and had a faint yellow stain.

He kept staring at that mess of imperfections, picking out and pondering each one as he found even more, from the reddening of a zit here and there to lumpy patches of barber's rash along his neck and finally those irregular spots clustered mostly across his cheeks and nose that made his skin even more tarnished. He then studied the narrow line of his jaw that finished off the overall effect of being uncomfortably sissified, a 'pretty boy' face that was never taken seriously as a man. The longer he stared, the more it felt like the twisted face of some grotesque, effeminate freak instead of his own. At least as a machine, this youthful androgyny had looked beautiful and alien in contrast to the hard angles of the armor.

And then there was the hair… The hair that was so frizzy and thick enough to break steel combs that needed soaking in relaxer just to get it back under control. Raoul tugged a curl down to inspect it, frowning in disgust not only at it's coarse texture but the fact his fingers were now so numb. He could even see the nasty paleness of his natural color just peeking out at the roots. Then he looked himself in the eye, dwelling upon every single flaw he now saw with sharp clarity. Those eyes looked down at those clumsy hands as he studied every rough callus and defect in them.

Raoul stared harder and, for a few brief seconds, that ugly face changed back into that of Hellrider. But as he smiled with relief, it vanished and went back to that pathetic little human.

Desperate to go back to being Hellrider, Raoul continued to study himself closely, slowly coming to realize that this body was a prison. It was the incarnation of everything holding him back. Raoul used to be happy with this body. Raoul know realized he'd just let himself settle into complacency, confident that this was the best he could be. But now he'd gotten a taste of what he could be… what he should be…

"Are you okay?" asked Brainstorm.

"I hate you…" he said softly, glaring coldly at the face he wanted tear off and replace with something better. Bile boiled just at the back of his throat from the swelling of a special, personal loathing that gave him the shakes so bad he could barely stay standing. But he kept staring at the reflection. "…I hate you…"

"…excuse me?"

Raoul straightened up, his body jerking rod straight as the shaking stopped. Balling a hand into a fist, he stiffly turned towards Brainstorm. He could feel hot, bitter tears on his cheek as a smile twisted his lips. Only vaguely did he notice Brainstorm looked frightened, because he really wasn't looking at anything. He must've started laughing then, because his voice hitched with hysterical giggles as he repeated, "I… Hate… You…"

Before Brainstorm could stop him, Raoul swung his fist as hard as he possibly could…

"You cannot be serious," Tracks hissed, glaring at the little hologram of Jazz that Rewind had set up in the kitchen.

"Look babe, Prowl's pulling rank and Magnus is backing him up on this shit," Jazz grumbled wearily. "I know you don't like the bastard and I ain't too fond of him either…"

"Hey!" snapped Rewind. "Chromedome's a really sweet and…"

"…and you're underage," Jazz said sharply. "He shouldn't have even suggested the shit he did to you to start with and has pulled one too many stunts in his time with little to no regard for the damage he caused. And I ain't even going to start about the little fact he's way too friendly with you. So your dad, me and your step-mom are perfectly in the right to call out Chromedome for being a sleazy motherfucker."

"Which is exactly why I insist on staying right here," said Tracks with a haughty frown. "So I will be in for maintenance as soon as I can leave Raoul and the twins in the care of a respectable adult."

"I don't get why you're making such a fuss. Brainstorm, Arcana, Perceptor, and myself will also be present," Metalhawk said, smiling in a politely nervous way.

"I well aware of the levels of depravity that those three get into. And I'll be damned if I have to allow Chromedome have unsupervised access to anyone, especially children!" grumbled Tracks.

Metalhawk gaped at him in annoyance. "I just said I'll be right here."

"Oh, I heard you just fine, Hawk. It's just that your backstrut has the structural integrity of jelly! I have seen Perceptor literally use you as a doormat! And you become an even more submissive idiot when Stylor's involved. Therefore my fears for Raoul and Rewind's safety perfectly warranted," hissed Tracks without even a glance at the flustered Pretender as he gave Jazz a pleading look. "This is why I cannot leave my post at this time. So will you please explain the situation when First Aid—"

"Aid ain't coming."

Tracks sighed. "Well, then will you please tell Hoist I'm sorry about this but…"

"Ain't Hoist, either," said Jazz. "He's still dealing with the fallout from Red's little breakdown."

"So who did they send?"

"Me…" Ratchet growled, looming over Jazz's back with a glare. "Now Tracks, you are going to quit whining, let Chromedome cover for you, and be here by this time…" He flashed the time up in huge numerals for all of them to see. "And if you aren't here by then, I will hunt you down. Clear?"

"For god's sake Ratchet, I…"

"I know you are not about to argue with me, boy," hissed Ratchet.

"No. I am not arguing. But I have a meeting at Raoul's school in the morning," Tracks said. "And, no, I cannot reschedule as it apparently is an urgent matter that I and Raoul must both attend personally."

Jazz nodded, wincing at the way Ratchet was leaning on his shoulders. "Yeah. They sent a letter about it, some kind of disciplinary action. Really vaguely worded, but it is a legit appointment."

Ratchet frowned, but the time changed. "All right. I'll see you in the afternoon. Because, effectively immediately, you are on indefinite medical leave 'till I clear you to return to active duty. And if it makes you feel better, Jack will be here by then so you'll have a 'respectable adult' watching the kids."

"Why?" asked Tracks, biting back the urge to also question how any sane person could call Wheeljack 'respectable'.

Perceptor cleared his throat. "After reviewing the primary results, Arcana and I felt it would be prudent to have him in attendance as well."

Before Tracks could ask him to explain, there was a cracking bang from Raoul's room. He instantly bolted to the door, kicking it hard enough to bust the lock in his haste to get in.

Raoul immediately turned, his expression flashing from a ghastly grin to a broken deadpan reflected into many thousands by the shattered mirror. He sheepishly pulled his fist away, leaving a hole and a cracked stud behind the pulverized drywall. He smiled weakly at Tracks as he tried to hide his bleeding hand, but pointedly avoided looking him in the eyes. "Oops. Didn't mean to scare you, big guy."

"…oh god," gasped Tracks, rushing to the boy as Brainstorm bolted out to the balcony, drawing the curtain shut behind him. He carefully took Raoul's hand to look at the busted open knuckles.

"It's not that bad," Raoul said in a quiet, flat voice, focusing his attention on inspecting his hand. A strange fatigue had crept into the boy's voice, as if he'd suddenly aged centuries since they'd last talked."The lacerations actually ain't very deep and it's only bleeding so bad because there's not a lot of tissue between the skin and bone here to cushion the impact and… and…"

Tracks frowned as he lead the boy to the bed and turned on a lamp to get a better look. "There are pieces of glass in it."

"I punched a mirror," he replied as a faint coral flushed his damp cheeks.

"What's happened?"

"I punched a mirror," repeated Raoul, the blush darkening as he took the case Arcana offered. For a brief moment, he locked eyes with Tracks to reveal he had that certain haunted, distant look the Corvette had seen too many times before.

"Why?" Tracks asked, barely registering that Arcana had left and shooed the others out as he closed the door behind him.

"Don't worry about it, big guy," Raoul grumbled as he started cleaning out the wounds as if he used a Nebulan crash kit before. When he noticed Tracks was still staring in concern, he sighed. "Look, I've got this. It's really not that big a deal, Tracks."

"To start with, you punched a mirror. That is kind of a big deal."

Raoul just shrugged as pinched on the last temporary staple before digging around for a skin patch close to a human skin tone. "I'll replace it, okay?"

Sighing in frustration, Tracks said sharply, "It's not the mirror that I'm worried about."

"Don't be. The only good thing I can say about being human is at least this flesh will heal," said Raoul with disgust as he glared at his hand.

"You've been crying."

"Hurts like hell, punching mirrors."

"We've been speaking Cybertronian this whole time," Tracks said, picking out a bandage close the warm tone of the boy's skin and smoothed it over the wounds.

"So maybe I learned to speak robot," grumbled Raoul, stiffening as Tracks cupped his chin but not resisting when he started moving the boy's face to get a better look.

"In less than two hours?" he asked, brushing back Raoul's hair to see his forehead. He let his fingers linger a bit too long, enjoying the velvety heat of his skin, before pulling away abruptly. "Where is it?"

"What?"

"The VR rig," said Tracks, then before Raoul could argue, added, "The old 'crown of thorns' leave marks where the diodes attached to the skin. Similar to the track marks left by intravenous drug use. Now, where is it?"

"You're overreacting again, Tracks…" Raoul grumbled, but reluctantly handed the bundle of wires to him.

"Is that so?" he said, calmly wrapping the wires around his hands before casually snapping them apart with one jerk.

Raoul gasped in shock and arousal. "What the hell?!"

"They're dirt cheap and highly addictive," growled Tracks, tossing the remains into the trash. "Brainstorm basically gave you crack, my boy."

"I didn't get it from…," Raoul began to say, then caught himself.

"All right. If not him, then who gave you that?"

"I don't want to talk about it…" Raoul grumbled, his skin flushing even more as he gave Tracks a funny look. "Jesus… I never seen you like this before. Kicking in doors, tearing shit apart barehanded… I ain't sure whether to be scared or horny, but… I love seeing you like this…"

Tracks sighed, making a point to ignore that. "All right, you can tell me later. But you can please tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Something made you punch out a mirror," said Tracks, his tone softening as he brushed the hair out of Raoul's face. "And if Brainstorm…"

"I just wanted to learn more about you guys," Raoul said quietly. He turned to Tandy, who'd been quietly watching them. "Right?"

"Uh-huh," Tandy said shyly. "You plugged in a datastick which had a VR simulation of Cybertron for a tour. It's right here, if you want to look."

"For how long, Tandy?" asked Tracks, glancing at the session log Tandy pulled up. "And just what went on in there?"

Tandy stammered, looking embarrassed and sleepy as she ejected the datastick. "I really don't know, sir. I… I kind of took a little nap."

"About two hours," said Raoul, looking down at his hands.

Tracks raised an eyebrow, his frown turning to a skeptical smirk as he took the datastick and put in in his pocket. "So you learned a language impossible for organic lifeforms to speak without extensive cybernetic modification as well as field medicine in that short of time?"

"Well, if you want to split hairs, I was there for roughly twenty seven giga-cycles," Raoul answered as he looked up with with a nasty smile and an evil glare. "So wipe that smile off you fucking face, asshole."

"Raoul!" gasped Tracks in horror.

"Sorry. I ain't talking to you, big guy," Raoul said in a softer tone, pointing to the door.

Tracks turned to see Chromedome's holoform glaring at them as he leaned on the door-frame. He stiffened and glared contemptuously back. "I thought you'd be here in the morning."

"Got done with the thing Prowl wanted, so I decided to come on up and relieve you after Ratchet put you on leave." Chromedome's voice was level but filled with barely checked scorn. "Door was wide open. Good thing, because it looked like someone was being a little too 'handsy' with a minor. Lord knows what might happen to an impressionable young boy left at the mercy of a dirty old man…"

Raoul let out a soft, beastly growl. "Bullshit! Doc pull it shut when he left. Because he actually has respect for other people's privacy."

Cutting Chromedome off before he could respond, Tracks wearily asked, "What do you want? And where's Stylor?"

"I just told you. I'm here to relieve you and take over watching the human. Before you can do anything… regrettable or, worse, unnatural to them," Chromedome said, pointedly switching to speaking English with priggish detachment. Even hidden behind a surgical mask, Tracks could tell he was disdainfully sneering at him and ignoring Raoul completely. "Stylor is coming with Wheeljack and a little 'surprise' for the human."

Tracks stared at him in silent shock a moment. "You left your head in the care of Wheeljack?"

"Stylor and I are no longer binary bonded. Haven't been so in over five terrestrial years."

"So you're not a headmaster any more?"

"No."

Tracks smiled thinly. "Well, that's interesting… I guess now I can finally have a few words with you about a certain matter."

"Oh good. Because I've got a few words for you," Chromedome snapped back quietly. If the sneering hadn't be obvious before, it was clear now when he shot a dirty look at Raoul. "But let me start with just one: hypocrite."

"Just what exactly are you implying?!" snapped Tracks, getting to his feet to start towards Chromedome as he hand clenched.

"Don't," said Rewind as he quickly got between them, taking full advantage of being nearly twice the height of their holos. He turned a pleading look to Chromedome. "Please. Not tonight…"

"Fine." Chromedome's whole demeanor softening as Rewind pull him away and shut the door behind them.

"I'm sorry, Raoul," Tracks said gently, turning back to him as he faintly caught the sound of Rewind chewing the other mech out.

The boy just shrugged, then laughed as he reached up and lightly grabbed Tracks hand. "It's fine, big guy."

There was a long pause as they looked at each, eyes locked a bit longer than appropriate. Then Tracks glanced away suddenly, then moved to the door. "We'll talk about the VR later. Now, get some sleep. We have to be at your school early in the morning."

"On a Saturday?! What for?"

Tracks sighed. "I got a letter today requesting that we have a meeting with your principal and some of your teachers concerning disciplinary action about a 'violation of academic ethics' and other 'disorderly behavior'. The letter was rather vague compared to the last times we had silly misunderstandings over nonsense like when they demand I show proof that you're improved grades were result of your own efforts, but this sounds far more serious." He paused, waiting for Raoul to say anything, but when the boy just kept sullenly silent, Tracks went on. "I was under the impression the weekends were not normally used for this kind of thing. I suppose since there's a holiday Monday, they won't be in the office then which might be the reason. So we're going to—"

"Why bother?" Raoul said sharply. "I'm getting expelled. The bastards have been looking for an excuse for years, and me finally going off on that fat fuck of a coach was it."

"You didn't…"

"…hit the bastard?" Raoul just laughed. "Nope! But I sure as hell made sure everyone knew exactly what I thought of him and his fucked up little hobby."

"I understand you've not felt very well lately, but there's no reason to take it out on…"

"I found out the bastard has been filming us in the showers," came the hollow reply. "The school put in security cameras last year to deter 'criminal behavior' and the coach talked them into letting a buddy of his install them. The guy also hid a couple in the locker rooms and every single bathroom. They're collecting the footage for their own personal spank bank. I only found out about it because the coach also likes to share them with his players. A forward on the girl's varsity team got a copy and showed it off at this house party the crew and I crashed… uh, spontaneously invited ourselves to… Any way, I finally found out why the fuck everybody was suddenly asking if I'm a grower or just a shower…"

"I'm not familiar with those terms, and at this point I am afraid to ask…"

Raoul chuckled. "It's about my dick, and I'm happy to say that it ain't just for show. I'm happy to prove it if you want me to, big guy."

Tracks sighed again, ignoring that comment. "I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for that."

"Yeah. He's a perv who likes spying on kids."

"…sounds familiar…"

"I dunno… Chromedome seems like he loves Rewind back."

"I meant Red Alert, Raoul." Tracks went quiet a moment, then added coldly, "But I am deeply disturbed that you would presume such a thing about their relationship."

"Why? You know, I have seen that kind of thing before. The guy chilled the fuck out the second Rewind showed up," Raoul said with a grin. "A man will only do that out of respect for their mamas, their grannies, or their old lady. There's no point bothering for just a piece of ass."

"It is if you're grooming an underage boy for the purposes of engaging in immoral acts."

"So what was it Dominus was doing?"

Tracks again went silent a moment, then replied with as much restraint as he had, "The legacy of Dominus Ambus is a very complicated one. He championed many progressive causes and worked for the betterment of all Cybertronians. And I was taught that it is the poorest of taste to speak ill of the dead."

"Fine. Then what's the deal with us?"

"I'm your guardian," said Tracks as he turned away. "There's nothing more to it than that."

"Bullshit!" He heard Raoul stand and stagger over to him. "You about threw hands over Chromedome talking shit about us. And I saw the way you went off on Percy just for flirting back when I was just messing around. The way you're acting is the same damn way guys act about their old ladies. I've seen it so many times. That's something, and it's called jealousy."

Tracks turned to face him again, confused and annoyed. "How did you know that? About what I said to Perceptor. You weren't there."

"A friendly ghost showed me some feeds while I was in the simulation," Raoul said hesitantly.

"And who was this friend?"

"Just a friendly ghost," Raoul repeated defensively. "Look, they're harmless and even taught me about your history. You should be more worried about Brainstorm…"

"So Brainstorm was involved with this after all," said Tracks, glad to finally have a scapegoat to vent his frustrations on.

"All he did was ask a favor," said Raoul. "So don't go bitch at him, okay?"

"I will do more than bitch, given the 'favors' he asks of people."

Raoul frowned, then laughed. "Don't worry. I ain't letting him use me as a guinea pig. Now calm down and come to bed."

"I'm sorry?"

"Come to bed," Raoul said as he sat down again, shyly pulling on his sleeve. "Come on…"

Tracks pulled away slightly. "Are you suggesting that we…?"

"Why not?" snapped Raoul. "They all already think we're fucking, so what can it hurt?"

"A lot," said Tracks dryly. "I am in a position of authority here, you are a minor, you clearly are not in a stable mental state so you cannot give consent, and we're both from wildly different species…"

"All of which I really don't give a shit about right now," hissed Raoul, grabbing hold of his arm to gently pull him back beside him.

"…and I broke the doorknob getting in here," Tracks said, not moving closer but not really trying to pull away. "There's no way to lock the door even if I wanted to take advantage of this situation."

"But you want to, don't you?" asked Raoul with a strange little grin as he leaned in.

Tracks sighed with a frown but matched the boy's gesture and leaned in till their noses nearly touched. "What I want does not matter right now. The only important thing is you and what you need. And what you need is…"

"You! Right now!" Raoul snapped, suddenly panicked and desperate. He was crying again as latched onto Tracks in a death-grip like he was drowning as he buried his face into crook of Tracks' neck. "I don't even want to fuck. All I really want is you to hold me. Because I… I just don't want to be alone. So will you just stay with me, please? I'm scared… I'm so scared… So please… Please, just for tonight… Please, Tracks?"

"Hush…" He sat back down beside the boy, wrapping him tightly in a hug as Raoul broke down in quiet sobs. He quietly shushed the boy and let him cry as long as he needed to. As the boy started to calm down, Tracks slipped off his shoes and carefully adjust their positions so Raoul would be laying comfortably beside him. He only drew away from the boy long enough to cut the light off, then settled back down to cuddle him close again. As they lay together, Tracks gently stroked his hands along Raoul's back and shoulders, enjoying the heat of his body that seeped through the ratty sweatshirt. He even indulged himself a little as he murmured soft little reassures to the shaking boy by nuzzling the fluffy mess of his hair, smiling to himself while brushing his fingers through it over and over again.

"…yeah, I know," Raoul said with a croak. "It's gotten nappy as fuck."

"I don't quite understand…"

"It's back to being too curly," said Raoul. "I had it under control, till you decided to ban me from using relaxer or straighteners…"

"You were literally burning yourself," Tracks grumbled as he continued playing with the boy's hair. "There were chemical and thermal burns all over your scalp, which I see have almost completely healed now."

Raoul huffed out a laugh. "You won't let me keep a jheri curl, but you let me keep dying it black. I just don't get you, man…"

"Well, I wish you wouldn't even do that but your school forbids 'unnatural' hair colors. Which I do not understand since their dress code seem to be an excuse to excluded anyone unwilling or unable to alter their appearance to comply with a standard biased in favor of Northern European ideals and against people lacking at least a middle class income," grumbled Tracks.

"Because white people are the only ones who matter, big guy. And they like to think Chroma only happens to 'ethnic' people or mutant freaks," Raoul said with a grim laugh. "If I want to be 'acceptable', I gotta have straight hair and a very intimate relationship with Black #1."

"I still say it is ridiculous. I think your natural coloration is lovely. It's quite a stunningly contrast of dark skin and pale hair…" said Tracks as he caressed Raoul's cheek.

Burying his face into Tracks' chest, Raoul muttered, "No. No, it's not. My baby sister got the best luck with looks. Little Raya looks like a pretty rose just like our Nana Alonzo when she was young. And my Abuela Incandenza's side tends to have hair so dark that nobody can tell it was blue not black. Even mom had head of beautiful, sapphire colored hair. But me? I only got the worst of both sides…"

"You're being a bit harsh, Raoul."

"It's fucking lavender!" Raoul hissed. "I look like a washed out Troll doll that drowned in bleach. And real men aren't lavender…"

"Now that's a matter of opinion," grumbled Tracks. "The only good thing I can say about you ending up in the hospital so long was your roots grew out enough to show off the gorgeous color."

The boy laughed again. "Well, if you really like it so much, I can show it off right now because I ain't dying downstairs…"

"Well, I hope not! I can only imagine the mess you'd make trying to dye the rest of your body hair," huffed Tracks, refusing to acknowledge the implications. "But at least that is relatively harmless on it's own. Though I wonder why you need to color your eyebrows too."

"To match the rest. Pale purple eyebrows are kind of noticeable. And I wouldn't need to use kohl pencils if you'd let me go back to Grecian Formula…"

"It has too much lead in it," grumbled Tracks, cuddling the boy closer. "And it frightens me to see the lengths you're willing to go to look or be anything but yourself."

Raoul laughed, then said coldly, "That's because there's a gold standard for what 'good' people should be and it ain't me. I wasn't born right, so I've got to do a lot of work to cover up being my mom's ugly little mistake, you know?"

Tracks frowned. "That's absolutely ridiculous! You are not a mistake. You're beautiful…"

"No, Tracks. I'm not. See, to start with, I got bad hair…"

"And I keep saying that it's a lovely color on you…"

"No. I mean I have really bad hair."

Tracks laughed, nuzzling in a bit more and enjoying the pleasant scent of shampoo and warm skin. "Correction. You had bad hair, but now it's getting back to being healthy. It's certainly less greasy…"

"You really don't get it," came the bitter laugh in reply. "See, I'm a mistake, Tracks. Everybody, from my stepmother to both sides of my family, have been telling me so since mom pushed me out. I took after her, like my baby sister Carmen and my half-brothers took after their mom. But unlike them, I didn't get lucky enough to have a mother with good hair who could pass for white or take after my dad, who is also got a head full of good hair. They were quick to point out that since I never got any 'wholesome Spanish blood', I couldn't be his son. They wouldn't have even let dad claim me if Uncle Mitch hadn't asked him to take a paternity test."

"Wait," said Tracks, confused as he tried to both reconcile some things and amazed that Raoul was suddenly being so open about his past. "From what your father told me, I was of the impression that your mother was actively against seeking him out since he was a married with a family and only accepted child support payments because your grandmother talked her into it. I didn't realize she'd requested such a test."

"Mom didn't." Raoul's voice went flat as he spoke. "She wouldn't even have put his name on the birth certificate but my abuela told her I had the right to at least know my dad's name. That was how my uncle figure out who he was and he felt it was up to him to do the 'right' thing by conning mom into going back to California with me in tow to confront him. I know it really surprised them both that my dad was perfectly fine taking full responsibility for me without one since they only slept with each other while she was shooting some B-movie and he was separated from the Wicked Bitch of the West. And there the little fact that dad can, y'know, count and do basic math, but everybody agreed it'd be best to do it any way. Even then, the Alonzo-Gomez side made dad do another one before they'd accept that I was his despite the fact I look almost exactly like him as a kid."

"That's extremely disturbing, Raoul."

"Who fucking cares? Maybe they're all right… Maybe I'm just a worthless ghetto rat's failed attempt to baby trap a man!" snapped the boy then he broke down in tears again. "She should've taken Aunt Marie up on the offer to get that abortion… I'm a worthless, queer and stupid hood headed straight to hell, since there are no 'black angels'. I'm literally nothing important. Why should anyone give a shit about me?"

"First off, I happen to give a shit about you," said Tracks. "And I find this attitude to be incredibly unhealthy."

"So what?" the boy laughed darkly, leaning in the give him a quick kiss. "That's really sweet, Tracks, but healthy don't mean shit. You can be the healthiest motherfucker in the world and still be nobody. If I ever want to be anything, I got a work my ass off to the hide that I'm nothing and what's the point if you can't look fabulous!"

Track expression darkened as he grimly said, "That's sounds like the kind of petty things my father would say…"

"Yeah, but Knock Out's got a point," Raoul chuckled cheerlessly.

"How did you know that?" asked Tracks, tensing up as he gently tilted Raoul's chin up to force the boy to look him in the eye. "How did you know about my father?"

"I… uh, I spent a lot of time in these archives while doing that VR thing," said Raoul, clearly holding back. "Ran across him while looking at a few things…"

"About me?"

"Yeah…" he said shyly with some relief. "And I guess you and your dad never really got along, did you?"

"Actually, we had a pretty close relationship… Right up until dear old dad was deported when the company that built my siblings and I got bought out by a rival."

"He got deported because a bunch of suits ran out of money?"

Now it was Tracks turn to have a bitter laugh. "No. He got caught attempting to 'steal solvent property' after finding out that Crosscut could only manage to buy one of our contracts."

"So he bought Road Rage's, right?"

"The embassy had already done that years before when they picked my twin to be Crosscut's body guard and assistant," said Tracks. "Crosscut wanted to buy mine, but I talked him into taking my little brother instead. He had the potential to have a bright future as an inventor."

Raoul had a grim smile as he chuckled, his voice becoming colder and crueler. "I'd say Crosscut picked the wrong brother."

"Needy… My little brother had a future," Tracks said again, softly. "And I wanted to make sure he had every opportunity to live the best life he possibly could. I also didn't have very long left on my contract, so I insisted that my brother would have more to gain than I did."

"And that was a fucking mistake," growled the boy. "You should have let that little ingrate hang."

"Raoul!"

"What? Needlenose likes to whine and whine about how the whole world keeps on screwing him over and how all you ever did was exploit him," hissed Raoul. "But when I dug up all the shit about everything you did to help and showed it to him, the little fucker called me a liar. So I got mad and sent him footage of the late Horri-Bull and his buddies getting their heads shot off by a sniper…" He stopped abruptly when he saw Track's face. "Oh god… I… I'm sorry, Tracks."

"You… you interacted with my brother?"

"Yeah, well… He basically held the archives hostage, so I had to put up with his shit a lot," grumbled Raoul, trying to cover his slip in annoyed indifference. "Needlenose is a real pain in the ass, but you get guys like him everywhere, even Autobots…"

"My brother joined the Decepticons," Tracks said with a flat tone. "He was very close to Horri-Bull. In fact, if I'm being honest, he was Needy's only friend. A friend who took great pains to seduce—eh, sorry, I meant recruit him into the Decepticons before the war began. The only archives my brother has control of belong to Shockwave."

"Yeah, well… Even Shockwave couldn't talk him in to cutting me some slack. It took your dad to finally talk Needlenose down and…"

"My father is also a Decepticon," said Tracks, cutting him off sharply. "What were you doing? Who were you talking to in there?"

Raoul was quiet a moment, then said in a meek tone, "I… I really don't want to talk about it… Not much to say anyway, so quit worrying."

"And now I'm even more worried," he replied. Then hesitantly asked, "My father didn't try anything, did he? I mean, he can be an incredibly lecherous and likes to date mechs even younger than Needy, but I've never realized he'd be willing to chase after another species…"

"He thinks I'm a robot…" said Raoul suddenly. "Not that it matters, since Knock Out's only really interested in hooking me up with Needlenose." He paused, laughing warmly. "Kind of hilarious finding out you really are from the classic Jewish family. I mean, the lengths your old man will go to marry your kid brother off to a doctor…"

"While dad would gladly take any thing but Horri-Bull as an in-law, I am more concerned with what exactly were you doing," said Tracks, not hiding his fear. "Starting with why he'd think you were a robot…"

"Because I was," Raoul answered in a cold tone. "I wanted to know what it'd be like to be one of you. They offered me a taste, so I took it. And I loved it. I literally have never felt more alive! Then they made me another offer, this time to make it permanent but…" He reached up and shyly touched Track's cheek. "But they were asking too much. I would do anything to feel that way again but… nothing's worth that… I'll find another way…"

"What do you mean? Raoul, what happened?"

The boy sighed then suddenly kissed him hard on the lips. "I love you, big guy." He laughed then added in a slightly more feverish, desperate tone, "Tracks, you get me? I… I love you."

"And I love you, too." He spoke hesitantly as he pulled away slightly. "But all this is getting you too worked up and…"

"Speaking of 'worked up'…" Raoul chuckled, pressing his whole body close to him again. "You know, I just call you 'big guy' because you're taller than me… even in 'human' mode. Never noticed that wasn't just when you're standing up…"

"Yes, well…" Shifting so their pelvises weren't touching, Tracks cleared his throat. "I feel I must remind you that not only am I in a position of authority here, but even if I was inclined to take advantage, I would not. You're still in a bad emotional state, are likely intoxicated based on your behavior, and you honestly need to get some sleep. I mean, you haven't had a decent night's rest for over three weeks, Raoul."

The boy smiled at him, cuddling up close again. "I've been pretty wired lately, but there's one thing you can do to tire us both out…"

Tracks just sighed heavily, wincing at the sensation. "No."

"Why?"

"Besides all the previous issues? There's the fact that I not only broke the door down to get in here, leaving it unable to really close properly," he grumbled, then pointed to the sliding door. "But the curtains are open and well…"

"Huh? No they…" Puzzled, Raoul turned to see the blond man in tan fatigues standing on the balcony with a gorgeous redhead in a bomber jacket. She waved at them with an oddly familiar, magazine bright smile while the man looked uncomfortable. He turned back to Tracks, asking shyly, "Are they Autobots too?"

"They're humans," he replied, reluctantly disentangling himself. "They belong to you country's military, an organization called 'G.I. Joe'. And they're our allies… some times."

"Okay…" Raoul sat up on his elbow as Tracks got out of the bed. "So, you going to shoo them off and close the curtains?"

"No. I'm going to go ask them why they're here while you go to sleep." When he saw the disappointed expression on the boy's face, Tracks leaned down and tousled his hair affectionately. "Don't give me that look. You need your rest, dear boy. Good night."

"…night."

Tracks moved quickly out the balcony door, pulling the curtain shut before closing the door. He went over to the two humans, forcing himself to keep as a neutral an expression as possible as he asked, "Hello. Might I ask why your here, Sergeant Hauser?"

"It was covered in the debriefing," said Duke. "If you'd hadn't run off right in the middle of it, maybe you wouldn't have to ask… eh…" Duke paused, then asked sharply, "Uh, just what exactly is your rank and pay grade any way?"

"Corporal," said Tracks quietly. "Going strictly by United States Army ranks, I'd be an E-4 in pay grade so I am a Corporal."

"Hold up!" barked Brainstorm, rushing out to them. "I fucking outrank you?! You have been utterly disrespectful of me, an officer…"

"…by their standards, you're only a Warrant Officer," Tracks said dryly. "As are Perceptor, Chromedome, and Metalhawk."

Metalhawk quietly cleared his throat to let them know that he'd be standing there the whole time. "Uh, actually, not any more."

They all gave him a funny look, then Brainstorm asked, "So what rank are you then? You get demoted or something?"

"No. I got promoted…" He straightened up sternly. "I am now both Space Commander of the Autobot Aerial Forces and Commander of the Headmaster Division, meaning that I am what would be considered a lieutenant general technically only answerable to Optimus Prime himself. Now, I will thank you all to quit acting like unruly protoforms and remember that there is a war going on and there lives at stake here."

"What a damn minute here…" said Duke as he stared at Metalhawk. "You mean you aren't a real human but one of the robots? I mean, you've been living on Earth for longer than the rest of them… You've even got a day job as Professor Go's assistant! They didn't have those hologram things so how… How are you…"

"He's a Pretender, Duke," replied Covergirl with evil little grin. "They have special suits to look like 'native lifeforms' and can shrink down. Well… maybe not too much where it really counts…"

"Before anyone asks, Courtney and I dated when she was a model, broke up, but stayed friends. Okay? Good!" gasped Metalhawk, face colored a brilliant shade of flustered red. "Now, let's get back to business. Tracks, the Joes are here on behalf of their government to monitor Alonzo-Alonzo…"

"Raoul's surname is Alonzo-Incandenza," corrected Tracks.

"But according to my research, naming conventions in Spanish means offspring are given the paternal surnames of their father and mother in that order. And, according to these documents…" Metalhawk pulled a file out of his suit jacket. "His father was Alonzo-Gomez and his mother would be the Alonzo-Incandenza, making his correct designation 'Alonzo-Alonzo'."

"Actually, no. That's not how it works," said Duke. "The corporal's right. Since they both share the first surname, it's pretty standard to take the mother's second surname. Though this is purely academic since the kid was born out of wedlock and, according our intel (confirmed by the boy's own words), his mother was strongly against even identifying his father in the first place."

"And just how long have you been gathering intelligence on Raoul?"

Duke just shrugged, pulling out a file of his own from his back pocket. "A little after the Dancitron incident. We like to keep tabs on anyone involved with aliens. Matter of national security."

"Speaking of security," said Metalhawk coldly. "Do you mind telling Snake Eyes to return the samples he took? We need to test them first."

Brainstorm glared at him, holding up a bag of what seemed to be surgical gauze soaked with reddish brown goo. "What are you talking about? There right here!"

"…those are used coffee filters and dye," rasped Metalhawk as he glared at Duke. "Scan them if you don't believe me."

Begrudgingly, Brainstorm did so and joined Metalhawk in glaring at the now grinning Duke. "Good news, everybody! They're not coffee filters. Bad news, somebody's recently had a very nasty UTI…"

"So, what are they?" asked Tracks, noticing the disgusted look on Covergirl's face.

"…used sanitary napkins…" Metalhawk let out a frustrated hiss. "You seriously stooped to that, Duke?"

"Actually, that wasn't the plan," he said sharply. "I gave orders to only use coffee filters… Very empathically, in fact."

"It was Scarlett's idea," grumbled Covergirl. "After things went FUBAR trying to get Chase's samples, she thought we should use a more… uh, realistic substitute. Even donated the fakes herself…"

Duke rubbed his temples. "Couldn't she have just used pig's blood or get a blood bag off of Doc…"

"We didn't have time. And it wouldn't have the right texture."

"Right…" Duke let out a weary sigh as he turned back to Metalhawk. "I am kind of curious to know why you think Snake Eyes is here."

"He was literally standing right there with Raoul, feeding his pet lunch meat."

They all turned to see the boy was doing just that, mere feet away from them but unnoticed till Metalhawk pointed him out.

"What?" grumbled Raoul as he gave the last of the ham to the wolf. "I told you I couldn't sleep. So I figured I come out and hear what you all were saying about me. And this puppy's being a good boy who deserves a treat. He said I couldn't give Shadow cheese… gives him the farts."

Duke looked shocked. "Snake Eyes talked to you?"

"Well, no…" Raoul leaned down to pet the wolf. "He knows sign language, though. Kind of goes with being the Silent Master."

Metalhawk and Duke both double-checked their files, but Tracks just chuckled. "His grandmother was partially deaf, so Raoul learned how to sign for her benefit. Which is one of those important little details I doubt your intel bothered to include. In fact, I'd hazard a guess that the information you both have is heavily skewed to present the boy as the stereotypical 'at risk' teen with little education, zero ambition, and in dire need of severe disciplinary intervention via boot camp. Am I correct?"

"Actually, no," grumbled Duke. "After looking at his criminal record here, I'd say that if the kid enlisted and made it to basic, he'd either be in Leavenworth by the end of a week or get scooped up by the spooks for one of their 'special programs'."

"Like Weapon X?" Raoul asked, grinning as he came over to Tracks' side. "Cool! I always wanted to superpowers. Claws would be awesome…"

Duke gave him a very cold glare. "Don't give them ideas, kid. Those bastards treat guys like you as 'disposable assets'. I've seen the shit they do to men…" He glanced over to Snake Eyes, who'd crept over to return the real samples to Brainstorm. "Trust me. It ain't pretty."

"I am more concerned with how you ended up with those records in the first place, seeing as Raoul is minor," said Tracks, carefully putting an arm around Raoul's shoulders in a way that didn't seem too familiar but ending up being suspiciously close anyway. "I was under the impression that, at least according to US. law, that such files were kept sealed and expunged once a minor reached the age of majority."

"Let me repeat, corporal: This is a matter of national security," replied Duke, his tone warming a bit even if he looked uncomfortable again. "We're allowed a lot of wiggle room when it comes to civil law and rights in these cases. There's also the fact that there's a trend of treating juvenile delinquents same as adult offenders, especially for violent offenses. Raoul has got multiple assault and battery charges…"

Raoul glared hatefully at him. "You ever heard of 'self defense'?"

"Yeah," Covergirl said sharply. "Paul was a real bastard, especially when he was coked up. We always suspected he only kept Raoul around instead of dumping like he did all the others because the kid was the first one that had the balls to hit him back…"

Duke gave her a funny look. "Another ex-boyfriend?"

"No. A few of my girl friends went out of with him and told me some real horror stories."

"He liked to fuck models," hissed Raoul quietly, moving closer to Tracks. "Used them up like toilet paper and dumped them whenever a newer, younger, dumber one came along."

Covergirl nodded. "Yeah. That was Paul Geddis' MO. Like them young and dumb… Way too young, to be honest. By the way Raoul, I feel really dirty now about when I ditched a gala to see that new car you were bragging about and almost accidentally slept with a kid who was only fifteen…"

"Why?" Raoul said with a sheepish grin. "That party was deader than disco anyway. And I honestly wasn't even trying to get in your pants. It was just nice talking to a woman who actually knows anything about cars and admits to it. It's like finding the Holy Grail at a pawn shop!" He paused, then added in a shyer tone, "Is… is that why you bailed on me? I mean, I know I lied a little but…"

She immediately pointed at Tracks. "This 'gorgeous' Corvette of yours is very protective. But that was the first time I've ever been told to 'fuck off, he's mine' so politely. He even got me a cab and called to make sure I got back to my hotel safe…"

"How… uh, how does that even work?" Duke asked suddenly, his tone filled with morbid curiosity. "I mean, I get how it'd go with human on human but… Do you guys even have a… Are you even really a 'man' or…?"

"We're male," said Metalhawk sharply, clamping a hand over Brainstorm's mouth to prevent him from explaining. "It's kind of complicated, but all the Autobots currently present here are male gendered and presenting as masculine humans…" He shot a look at Eject as she staggered over in a cloud of shimmery confetti giggling to drag Brainstorm back inside. "…except Eject, who apparently has decided to experiment with her holoform."

"So what's her deal?" asked Duke, gesturing at the painfully attractive and very buff black woman in a flamboyantly yellow outfit standing just in the doorway with a menacing smile.

"Sunstreaker is a… uh, a special case," muttered Metalhawk.

"Bitch a drag queen," said Raoul bluntly.

"Damn right! And it's your Royal Majesty, peasant!" Sunstreaker growl then laughed. "I can't help being the finest thing in the Universe!"

"Yeah-yeah… nobody cares, Sunny," said Sideswipe with an affectionate huff as he stepped out from his twin's shadow and passed him the joint he'd been smoking. He was equally as hot, muscular, tall, and scary but more traditional masculine and in only slightly less flamboyant red attire.

"Where have you two been?" asked Metalhawk eyeing the fine dusting of glitter and streamers clinging to them.

"We just got done with that 'blending in' test you asked us to do, Hawk," Sideswipe answered grinning.

"It took you nearly two joors to do so?"

"Well, we'd been back sooner but we ran into Eject and got dragged into this bar for a drink… Did you guys know you can get stupid high super fast in these? Oh! And Eject confirmed that they're fully functional."

"And I confirmed that human femmes are still the superior gender. Also, I got invited to a ball," added Sunstreaker. "So I'm gonna need this weekend off and I need the little monkey monster for a bit."

Tracks glared at him, cutting Raoul off before he could snap back. "Why the hell would I let you take this boy any where, Sunstreaker?"

"Ran into his wicked old auntie and she told me I had to," he replied with a little smile. "She also demanded that I drag your rusty old aft along too. Something about you messing with her precious little baby boy…"

"…auntie?" Tracks blinked in shock.

"My aunt Toni," said Raoul nervously. "I keep telling her you're nothing like Paul…"

"Well, I guess we'll be paying her a visit after that meeting."

"And I guess I'll tell Scarlet to have a wrecker on call for when you get the shit kicked out you…" Duke said dryly.

Metalhawk frowned. "That's if Ratchet doesn't get hold of him first…"

"I'm perfectly able to defend myself and will be making that appointment just fine, thank you," said Tracks in a bright, fatherly tone as he gently shepherded Raoul back to his room. "Now, the boy and I have to be at his school early in the morning, so good night."

"I didn't hear your CO dismiss you, corporal," Duke said.

"Tracks is currently on leave pending Ratchet's decision on whether or not he's healthy enough for active duty. And this includes mentally as well as physically," replied Metalhawk a bit more curtly than necessary. "So he can do as he pleases… provided it does not impede or compromise our orders. Otherwise, there will be severe consequences."

"What?" hissed Raoul suddenly. "You gonna shadowplay the big guy and make him a good little solider? Or just turn him into a vegetable?"

Metalhawk looked horrified. "How the hell do you know…"

"I told him!" chirped Brainstorm, coming back out to them. "I know I was just supposed to be observing while he ran that VR thing, but the boy had some questions the pre-installed AI couldn't answer and you know I just cannot help but educate others!"

"So you took it upon yourself to explain what lobotomies were?!" snapped Tracks, carefully moving to keep Raoul safely behind him as he moved towards the scientist.

"There's more than just that," Chromedome barked as he got between Tracks and Brainstorm. "In fact, shadowplay is rarely done. Most mnemosurgery are carefully monitored operations done as part of an overall patient treatment plan. It's not just 'lobotomies' and 'brainwashing'!" He turned a wrathful glared to Metalhawk. "And that's not what I'm here for!"

"Asshole's right," said Raoul, taking hold of Tracks' arm and pulling him back towards the bedroom. "It's actually supposed to be done mainly for therapeutic reasons, given how risky it is for both the patient and the surgeon. They also has a really high suicide rate because the stress, residual trauma, and general mental strain brought on from the very intimate nature of mnemosurgery…"

Chromedome blinked in surprise. "Uh, that's right… Thank you."

"And I wish to make it clear," Metalhawk said, keeping his anger in check. "That Chromedome is here solely at Prowl's request to serve as bodyguard for the human. If his skills as a psychologist are needed, then that will be strictly left to Ratchet's discretion. So nobody's going to get needled in the brain. Now will you both please quit bickering and try to keep things professional?"

They both went stiff and replied sharply, "Yes, sir."

Metalhawk sighed, turning to Brainstorm. "I take it you guys have something to report?"

"Yes."

"Good." He looked back to Duke and Covergirl. "You can join in if you'd like. I'll warn you, though. It's going to be a lot of science talk."

"That's fine," said Duke. "We're used to listening to our own eggheads. Our orders were to find out what the situation is. And I didn't see a projector…"

"We have a 3D holographic one set up already," said Metalhawk, seemingly oblivious to the miserable look on Duke's face as they started back inside. Then he paused. "I think it would be in your best interest to attend this meeting with us, Snake Eyes… and bring the wolf too."

"And I'll be along just as soon as I…"

"You are on medical leave, Tracks," said Metalhawk. "Therefore, I expect you to let us handle this while you go and get some rest. You and the boy have a meeting in the morning. So, good night."

As soon as the others had mumbled their own 'good nights' and gone back inside, Tracks silently lead Raoul back to his bedroom, firmly locking the sliding door and pulling the curtain shut behind them. Then he glanced at the door leading to the hallway.

"May I ask why there's a throwing knife in the doorjamb?"

"To keep it closed till the knob gets fixed," answered the boy as a he sat back down on the bed. "Snake Eyes let me have one in exchange for letting him swab my mouth."

"What?"

"It was one of those swabs like they do for strep," Raoul said in a weirdly calm manner, then he noticed the frown deepening on Track's face. "Look, he already took clippings off the napkins I puked on. I guess had a nosebleed and swallowed it while I was under. Maybe that's normal for…"

"That's not normal," said Tracks sharply. "That's a sign that the user protection fail-safes had been tampered with because you were in a bootlegged simulation or it was purposely designed to…"

"To what, big guy?"

Tracks sighed, going over to pick up the sleeping Tandy and then sitting down at the desk. "Don't worry about, dear. Just try to sleep while I ask Tandy a few questions about…"

As if on cue, there was a polite knocking at the door.

"Yes?" Tracks asked after pulling the knife out to open the door.

"Sorry," grumbled Sideswipe. "There's something we needed in here, but when I tried this door and the bathroom one, they were both locked… And Snake Eyes wouldn't let me get past while you all were talking."

"And what could you possibly need, Sideswipe?"

"Hawk wants the data fob for the VR the human was in," said Sideswipe. He smiled sheepishly and shrugged at the glare Raoul gave him. "Don't worry. According to Brainstorm, Tandy wasn't about to backup the logs on herself. They just want see what's on the fob, not poke around in her little head."

"I can do that just fine myself."

"I wish to remind you, Tracks, that you are on medical leave!" called Metalhawk from the other room.

Sideswipe shrugged as he held out a hand for the fob. "Sorry, but you heard Hawk. Hand it over."

Tracks did as asked, shutting the door and jamming it again with the knife. He pointedly sat back down at the desk, then noticed the look on Raoul's face. "What?"

"You were gonna yell at her about this?"

"No. I am just going to ask her for the logs…"

"Which she doesn't have."

"Which Brainstorm says she doesn't have," corrected Tracks. "He's not exactly known for being honest about certain things, especially when Prowl gets involved."

"So you saying that him and Chromedome are taking orders from Prowl, not Metalhawk?"

"Yes. That's very likely the case."

"And you think Prowl's got some kind of nefarious plans for me?"

"No. I know Prowl does, because I have seen it happen one too many times." Tracks huffed angrily, pausing to calm down a bit before continuing in a flat tone. "He's a brilliant strategist and genuinely wants to make the world better… Unfortunately, Prowl has a tendency to view people, even himself, as disposable assets in terms of reaching an objective, no matter how noble the goal is. He is not above letting a few deaths happen for the 'greater good'."

"And you believe that he's going sacrifice me to learn what the 'cons plan is, right?"

"Look, what the hell has Soundwave done to you?" Tracks abruptly asked. "And don't give me that look. It's pretty clear that you were in contact with the Decepticons while in that simulation. Now will you please tell me what happened?"

Raoul's voice remained eerily level as he spoke. "Why you think Soundwave was involved? I mean, I only told you that I spoke to Shockwave, your dad and kid brother."

"He hit you."

"Who?"

"Soundwave." Tracks took another breath, forcing himself to not scream. "He hit you hard enough to cause a spike in your vitals that caused the nosebleed you experienced. I'd like to know what happened."

"He showed me what it could be like if I was a robot like you," Raoul answered flatly, then noticed the hurt on Tracks' face. "Well, almost everything. Rather prudish about that shit… And, like I said, it was everything I dreamed of. Then Soundwave offered to make that dream a reality. And I'd have given anything to have it. But…"

"…but?"

The cold veneer suddenly cracked as tears started running down his cheeks. "You know I love you Tracks. You… you know that, right?"

"Yes…" he said back, going over to sit beside the boy and wrapping him in a tight hug. "And I love you too. Now, let's just lay back down and try to sleep, okay?"

Raoul only nodded and let himself be pulled down to a comfortable position besides Tracks. It wasn't very long before the boy drifted into a troubled sleep, leaving Tracks staring up at the ceiling as he tried to make sense of things.