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.

9. Stage 01-09: Appointment

Note: Apologizes for slow updating schedule, it's mainly down to health and 'real life' issues which lead to writer's block. I'm also a perfectionist who is mostly winging this, so that slows down the updates. Warnings for this and subsequent chapters include: period accurate language that includes slurs, homophobia (mainly the internalized kind), and very politically incorrect attitudes about disabilities in general and mental illness. There is also to be more body horror as well as body dysmorphism, stalking behaviors, moral ambivalent to outright criminal behavior, discussion of conspiracy theory nonsense, and fnord. Also, remember that this is a work of fiction. Actions taken by the characters are to progress the plot or otherwise enhance the story. If it sounds dangerous, illegal, or morally dubious to do in the real world, then the author wishes to remind you that you probably shouldn't do it yourself nor do I condone a lot of shit that went down in the 80s.

Quietly ducking into his empty homeroom before Tracks could notice, Raoul took a moment to collect himself. Tracks' words were still ringing in his ears, battering around his mind while it felt as if Leatherface was doing chainsaw ballet in his gut. While he was choking back tears, Raoul decided to try distracting himself from the incoming breakdown by seeing just how enhanced his senses really were.

Touch was the easiest to test, since he was leaning on the door and already in contact with the seeming smooth wood. It had a weird texture, rougher than he expected but with odd, slick lumps of what he guessed was varnish. The metal knob also had a texture that Raoul had never noticed before, with a spiraling pattern to it that he guessed was from having been spun on a lathe.

The faint nasal whining of Mr. Cooper starting on his usual bullshit caught Raoul's attention despite being several rooms away, and he realized that if he really wanted to, he could easily make out what they were saying. But instead, he just ignored it like any other noise and decided to test his sense of smell.

The first deep whiff was a mistake, assailing his senses with raw stink. It took a few seconds before he could distinguish between the smells, picking out the notes of aged B.O. from decades of students, stale coffee with a hit of rotgut whiskey, varnished woods, warmed plastics, metallic oxidization, institutional cleaners, and the bizarrely moist staleness of chalk. Gagging a little but pressing on, he eventually got used to the background odors and began picking out individual scents that he guessed belonged to his classmates. He even took a sniff of his own chair out of curiosity, recoiling at how pungently it stank and becoming even more disturbed to find he really did smell like that after checking his own pits.

Raoul took another sniff of both the chair and himself, wondering if it was just his imagination. But underneath the crispness of the soap he'd used that morning, all he smelled were soft memories that especially potent funk which lingered for weeks after a long, wild weekend having filthy, sweaty sex with somebody he'd never see again. As he resolved to take more drastic action about his own stink later, Raoul became aware of another scent. It definitely had that human funk to it, but there was a bold yet cozy perfume to it, a tropical incense mixed with cherry vanilla cola. This mysterious scent had to be coming off a girl, since Raoul had noticed the best smells only came from women… Except for Prissy Chrisy but Raoul figured that might be down to him being a flaming queen. A few more sniffs and he pinpointed it as coming from the hall, so he decided to go see who it was.

Whoever they were, they must've noticed him as they darted away before he could see them. But now he was too curious about what kind of girl would be running around smelling that delicious, so he decided to put his new nose to the test and track her down. He chased her scent and had barely made it out the door and down the steps before the scruffy man who smelled strongly of a classic barbershop and crisp ozone appeared as if from nowhere to cut off his escape.

"And where are we going, mon ami?"

"I just wanted a smoke," Raoul said while calmly held up a pack of cigarettes, stealthily looking for an opening to make a run for it as he took one out and put it to his lips.

"So did I," hummed the scruffy man, the Cajun accent thicker than swamp mud and just as organic. Taking a thin cigar butt form behind his ear to pop into his mouth, the man flicked his fingers to make a small flare of energy to light it. He gave Raoul a teasing grin, holding up his glowing finger tips towards him. "Need a light?"

"No thank. Got my own." Raoul held up his lighter as proof.

"A white Bic?" said the man thoughtfully. "You know using those are bad luck, ma pauvre ti bête."

Raoul laughed, lighting up. "So what? My life's already gone to shit. Might as well get started on my enrollment into that fancy 27 Club. But first I've got get famous fast. Only got less than ten years to make it…"

"That's terribly morbid, mon ami. You keep that up, you going end up putting a grise-grise on yourself."

"Grise-grise?"

"A curse," said the man. "It's hoodoo, mon ami."

"You believe in voodoo?"
The man laughed warmly. "Ah! I have seen such sights boy, I'm willing to believe anything! Starting with the fact that Voodoo is a religion, while hoodoo is folk magic. Like witchcraft, but more in touch with the good Lord than the Devil. Maybe you would like me to tell you all about it?"

Raoul stared at the man, his face blank. "What's your game, buddy?"

"Pardon?"

"What do you want from me, Gambit?"

"How did-…"

"The Guild of Thieves is one of the best places to buy and sell hot parts. They love to shoot the shit like anybody else, especially about the freaks like you," Raoul said calmly. "And you're not hiding the fact you're a mutant. Just what the fuck do you want from me?"

"You don't need to be so hostile," said Gambit politely, calmly holding the butt of his cigar till it glowed and flicking it away, making a small bang when it hit the pavement. "But I'm going to warn you, I don't take too kindly to be calling a freak."

Raoul just laughed again, holding up a hand and flexing his new claws out fully, hiding his own surprise to see how long they really could go. "But I'm a freak now too, see? That's why you're here, right? You want to drag me off to Professor X's sideshow. Well, thanks but no thanks." He tried to push past Gambit but stopped when the man grabbed his arm lightly.

"It's not a sideshow," Gambit said, his tone softening as he let go and popped a fresh cigar in his mouth. "It's a school for those who have abilities that make living in the 'normal' world among 'normal' humans difficult. As much as we want to, it's often necessary for our kind to live apart from other people. We're different from them, mon ami."

Tapping Gambit's shoulder to get his attention, Snake Eyes broke cover to wag a scolding finger at him. "[That's not true.]"

"…eh, what is he doing, mon ami?" asked the startled Gambit.

"He's using sign language to tell you that you're wrong," said Raoul with a little smirk.

"About being different?"

"[Yes. Because you are no different from any other human]" signed Snake Eyes as Raoul translated for him. "[All humans are mutants. The X-factor is several different genes not a singular one and exist in one form or another in all life on Earth. The genes in humans and other mammals are sometimes interrelated but not always. The only reason most people see those born obviously mutated as 'different' or 'strange' is due to most pregnancies involving natal mutations are miscarried extremely early or resulting in stillbirths. It's even rarer for those mutations to be beneficial in any meaningful way. But every human being has a latent potential to become an 'empowered individual', often being triggered by extreme trauma, intensive training, or medical intervention. Puberty is an especially common trigger event, as is being involved in lab accidents like getting bitten by genetically altered arachnids or caught in a radioactive burst during a space flight. Unfortunately, most people don't survive such trigger events or the resultant power incontinence.] Snake Eyes stopped, flexed his fingers a little then signed angrily, "[I'm fucking shocked that you, as an instructor at a school specializing in the education and needs of super powered children, didn't know this shit. Are you really saying that Professor Xavier failed to teach you about this? Or does he really believe in all that 'separate but equal' bullshit? Or are you just being a willfully ignorant Nazi motherfucker like Magneto?]"

"In short, Earth's full of freaks baby," chuckled Raoul after tactfully editing that last bit to be more 'professional'.

"I want to know how he knows all that," said Gambit with an expression that hinted he caught exactly what Snake Eyes had really been saying.

Snake Eyes stood there a moment, then gestured slowly as Raoul again translated, "[Besides the fact that I am a member of a special forces group focusing on dealing with threats that include super-enhanced terrorists, aliens, and god knows what else? I had my own personal experience during my last tour in Vietnam. There was a helicopter crash. Turns out I had an accelerated healing factor, which was the only thing that saved my life. It still took my face, my voice, most of my hearing, my sparking personality… but that's a small price to pay to be alive, right?]" He paused signing, making a strange, choked up noise that Raoul realized was a laugh. "[Real shame my family didn't get so lucky when they got hit head on coming to pick me up from the airport.]"

Gambit frowned, shaking his head. "I am sorry for your loss. But I'd have thought the army would have caught that while you were in basic and put you in to one of their 'special' projects."

"[Like I said, all human's are mutants. All those 'mutant detection' tests are absolutely useless in real world because they can only be calibrated to one or two specific types of mutation. Doing more would create false positives for every human being on Earth. And they still can't make any of those test precise enough to tell the difference between 'human' and any other animal. Take for example this one time in basic, I saw a prototype for one that they claimed would only work with human samples hit on a sample of Great Dane blood. They tried to say it was because Specialist Scoobert Doo is the result of an experiment, but when it also popped a positive on a chicken bone some took out of the mess hall, the brass got so mad they stopped the testing. Shame they still decided the results were good enough to be used in the current tests. But the tests were even less accurate back in the sixties and seventies. It only picked up the guys who were either already active mutants or had a very high likelihood of turning. Guys like me flew under the radar because our potential to have any 'useful' mutation was low.]"

"I guess you got lucky, eh? Missed out on those crazy CIA experiments?"

Snake Eyes just stared at the man.

"I think that's a sensitive subject. From what I've heard, the CIA didn't really treat our service men very well. They gave a lot of boys drugs that nobody really understood and sent them on some real bad trips to break their brains and see what happened. But free beer is free beer, right man?" Raoul said, lightly bumping against Gambit as he started to walk away again. "Now I've got some shit to do, so I wish you both a nice day."

This time it was Snake Eyes that halted him with a hand on the boy's chest and shake of his head. "[I'm supposed to keep tabs on you. Orders.]"

"And I'd like my wallet back," Gambit said in a dangerously quiet tone.

"You mean this?" Raoul held up a ratty old nylon wallet, opening it up and frowning in disappointment. "There's just five bucks and a coupon for a free Tim Horton's coffee that expired in '74."

"That's a decoy. I meant my real one, s'il vous plaît."

Raoul sighed, taking out the significantly higher quality, much fatter leather wallet and handing it over.

Gambit silently took out his identification cards and one of those photo inserts filled with pictures. The topmost was of a stunning redhead who couldn't be more than fifteen or sixteen with a shock of white in her hair. He quickly tucked the photos away as he handed wallet back to Raoul. "This is all that matters to me, mon ami. You can keep the rest."

"There's over two grand here…" muttered the boy in awe after counting the mix of bills, frowning in disgust at the sensation of the money on his skin. Then he looked to the credit cards. "And these are… wait. 'Tony Stark'? 'Reed Richards'? 'Bruce Banner'? Bruce 'The Fucking Hulk' Banner?!"

"What?" said Gambit with a grin. "Old habits die hard, mon ami… Besides, it's been over four months and only who noticed they're missing was Dr. Banner. He canceled the account barely an hour after I took it but the other two still work. So feel free to indulge in 'retail therapy'."

"Eh, as cool as it'd be to blow a few million dollars, I'd rather not have Iron Man or the Fantastic Four bust my ass for credit card fraud…" Raoul said, handing over the cards and half expecting them to blow up at any moment. "I really only need enough for a subway ticket and maybe a bite to eat, so you can have the rest back man."

"Keep it. Consider it an investment."

"In what?"

"You're future… on the dating scene," Gambit said dryly as he gestured towards Tracks' silent car mode. "I noticed that you and Monsieur le Sillage were having a discussion when I stepped out for a bit of air earlier. It seemed to go rather… poorly judging by the look on your face." After another silence, Gambit shrugged and pointed at his ear. "I also have a parabolic earpiece, mon ami. These little toys are sensitive enough to even pick up a human heartbeat. And I heard the whole conversation."

Raoul stiffened as well when he noticed that Snake Eyes had very subtly tensed up at the mention of the earpiece. Hiding his nervousness under an icy anger, Raoul said softly, "You know, it's rude to spy on people like that."

"He was trying to let you down easy, mon ami," said Gambit. "That man was doing his best to break things off with you as gently as he could, because he doesn't want to hurt you anymore."

"No. You heard him just as clearly as I did. He doesn't give a shit about my feelings. Tracks flat out threw my ass to the curb," hissed Raoul. "But I'm going to take your gift, make myself the freshest motherfucker in New York, and go do exactly what Tracks told me to do: find a nice, pretty human to make me feel better. Who knows? Maybe I'll get myself three or four. So thank you and good bye."

Raoul made it only a few more steps before Snake Eyes stopped him again.

"[I cannot let you just walk off, Raoul. I've got orders.]"

"Then can you at least give me some breathing room man?" asked Raoul, trying hard to hide how badly he wanted to break down crying. "Please? I don't give a shit if you follow me around, but just give me some space."

Snake Eyes stood motionless a moment, then gave him a barely perceptible little nod to let the boy know he'd comply before walking off.

As soon as Snake Eyes had vanished from sight, Raoul looked back to Gambit who was still watching him. As he fumbled a pen and paper from his pocket, Raoul went back over to him. "Hey man, can I ask one last thing?"

"Of course."

"You got a number?"

"I'm pretty sure Scott's already laden down your big blue friend with enough brochures to wipe out a forest and a business card."

"I mean your number, man. Just in case I want to talk to you."

Gambit raised an eyebrow. "That is an odd request, mon ami. Especially since I had the impression you don't particularly like my company."

"Yeah, well… you're growing on me. Like herpes…" Raoul chuckled suddenly. "Besides, I might not be seeing Tracks ever again so…"

"That man's in love with you," Gambit said softly. "It's so obvious a blind man could see it. Trust me, mon ami. I know all too well what it's like to be in love and forced to give them up for their own good."

"Tracks is an alien," said Raoul, recalling the girl's photo.

"So? He's still a man. He still has a heart."

Raoul laughed again. "But there's no place in it for me. Never was."

They stood there a moment in silence, then Gambit said gently, "It's cut you deep, hasn't it mon ami?"

"What? Ha! Nah…" rasped Raoul with a casual shrug. "It was just a stupid crush, that's all. Just in love with the novelty of it, that's all. Never really meant shit to me. I mean, it's never meant much to me before, so why should it be different now? All Tracks really hurt was my pride. I'll get over it. I always do…"

Gambit simply shook his head and pulled a large, fancy card out of his pocket. "Here. If you want to talk, just call."

"Thanks," Raoul said, taking it and noticing the card was one of those tarot cards helpfully titled 'Death' with the phone number written along the pole of Death's banner. "Haha… now who's being morbid?"

"It symbolic, mon ami. Death in tarot is often about changes and transitions. The death of the past leading to the birth of the future. It is the card of resurrection, Raoul. For good… or ill…" Gambit paused, letting the words hang dramatically before giddily clapping the boy on the back as he added, "If you want the real bad mojo in tarot, that would be The Tower or something in the suit of Swords. But you don't wish to stand around, listening to me ramble on and on and on about cards. I think you wished to take a little walk, no?"

"…yeah," said Raoul as he tucked the card into the pocket with Tandy. "Yeah. I'm going to go clear my head. Take care and… and thanks."

With a parting wave, Raoul quickly went over to Tracks' silent car mode and carefully retrieved the lunchbox from the passenger's side, replacing it with the cane he no longer needed. He paused a moment, catching a scent that immediately took him back to the men's room of those classy gay bars Paul liked to drag him into blended in the aroma of clean new car, then he hurried off down the street. Along the way, he caught little whiffs of the tropical cola girl just ahead of him through the cacophony of odors and sensations from the morning streets. He even managed to catch brief glimpses of the raspberry red beret on her head as it bobbed through the crowd. He focused in on it, surprised by how quickly he adjusted to being a bloodhound, and managed to trace her to the subway heading to Queens. Feeling even more curious and a bit hopeful now, Raoul descended the stairs into the station.

Taking advantage of transit cops being too occupied with the chaos in the wake several buses disgorging hordes of tourists, he jumped the turnstiles and immediately broke off his chase to ducked in the bathroom. Locking himself into a stall and recoiling in disgust both from the ghastly blended sensations that only a public toilet could manifest and at feeling the worn layers of re-re-re-repainted door, Raoul perched the lunchbox on the paper holder as he took off his jacket to quickly donned the gloves. Then he carefully divided up the cash and hide it discretely about his person with the rest of his 'emergency' money, tucking some into the hidden pockets he'd sewn into his jacket and underwear, making sure to put about a hundred dollars in each shoe. It wouldn't do to get mugged and lose it all because he was trying to look flashy with all those bills in one wallet, briefly wondering why the hell a master thief would do that in the first place. He even tucked another hundred's worth in the lunchbox and idly wondered how much he could get for those weird pills, just in case. Wouldn't do good to get high off them and get popped for a drug test while job hunting, at least not till he knew if they'd come up on a piss test. Maybe he ought to ask Lenny about them. But he would worry about that latter.

Putting the jacket back on, Raoul took out the headphones, idly marveling at the way it folded up neatly and that the cable was a removable aux one with plugs at both ends. The sounds hadn't been too bad since he was used to tuning out the background noises of the city, but he put them on anyway. There a couple of things he wanted to look into, starting with if he could still hear clearly with them on. So he popped them on and determined that, yes, he hear perfectly fine though the headphones did muffle the sound, making it less harsh and shrill.

"Hey, Tandy?" he asked, gently tapping the pocket to wake her up.

"Yes?"

"You mind cutting that tracker off."

Tandy made a confused little purr that buzzed in the headphones. "What tracker?"

"The one I know Tracks installed in you," Raoul whispered calmly. "Now will you please turn it off? I… I don't want him to know where I am anymore."

"Why?"

"It's hard to explain, but I… I just don't want to see him."

"You're just upset because you two had a silly fight," Tandy said in a shy but grumpy voice. "Gambit wasn't the only listening you know…"

"Then you know why I don't want to ever see him again."

"Then why not just throw me away?" asked Tandy. "I mean, you can't be sure that they can't use me to find you even if I turn off all the trackers and other location detection software. I mean, I'm a liability."

"I ain't going to do you dirty like that," replied Raoul. "You're a friend and I love having you around. Besides, it's neat having a cute little supercomputer living in my pocket. Makes life interesting."

Tandy was silent for a long, awkward moment, then said softly, "There. I cut off all the trackers I could find, but I can't guarantee I found them all. And if there's any trouble, I am going to call the Autobots to help. Are we clear?"

"Yeah. Thanks, honey."

"And I am not clearing any of Tracks' contact information in case you change your mind after you calm down."

"…all right," Raoul said. "Now, one other question: Got any music?"

"Well, yes," said Tandy. "I've got a few terabytes of music saved, but I'm not sure you'll like any of it. And I have to warn you that if you want to access Teletran Prime to download anything or use the radio, it will reveal where you located."

"I'll take that chance," he replied, carefully plugging in the headphones. "And now I'm curious to know what you're listening to."

"…okay. Here's the list." A little projected screen appeared in front of him showing a playlist that numbered in the thousands of songs. When she noticed Raoul was a bit stunned, Tandy highlighted the search bar and pulled up a keypad. "You can type in whatever you'd like and even use the filters to go by title, artist, genre, or album."

"Ok-ay…" On a whim, he looked up Prince and was pleasantly surprised to find what appeared to be his entire studio discography and a lot of live recordings. "…whoa. That's cool."

"You can put it all on shuffle if you want to," said Tandy, highlighting the controls for him. "And you can use voice controls but I can also key the controls to manual buttons on my case so you don't get any funny looks. I already look like a very fancy walk-man folded up."

"Ah, thanks again sweetie!" Raoul said, queuing up some tunes as he grabbed the lunch box and stepped out of the stall. He caught a whiff of the girl in the raspberry beret, wondering if she was still hanging around or if she'd hopped on the first car to escape. Deciding that the latter was most likely, he went to the mirror to do a little preening. As he noticed with quite a lot of annoyance that he now had some seriously heavy stubble, he took a moment to consider his options.

Tracks had a point about him needing new clothes and seeing that he was in possession of some funds, Raoul figured he might as well do a little shopping. But where was the question. He briefly considered going to Manhattan but realized that was too damn close to the apartment for comfort. He didn't want to run into any of the Autobots right now, especially not the big guy himself. Raoul figured he could go a bit further, like maybe Kings Plaza but remembered that he still had to keep out of Brooklyn unless he wanted yet another close encounter of the Tiny Danger Ranger kind. Besides, he figured it would be faster to just head up to Queens Mall, visit Lenny and see if he'd let him crash there till he found a new place with a job, then get to work finding a chick with a nice body who understood basic loyalty… but right now he was fine with at hooking up with whoever was down for some fun while looking for Miss Right. Just somebody to make him feel better. Maybe he might even hunt down the tiny Red from the deli and see what she was doing.

Settling on the decision to head off the Astoria, Raoul walked out of the bathroom… and crashed the very little Red he'd just been thinking of.

"Ah! Sorry! I… I was looking for my… my…" gasped Red in voice that was chirpy sweet but just deep enough the gender was ambiguous. It perfectly fit her cute, chubby pixie pout as she let him help her to her feet. Then she got a good look at him. "Oh… uh…"

"Looking for you're boyfriend?" Raoul asked politely, noticing both the beret and the tropical cola scent he'd been chasing. He then noticed the fringed leather jacket that she wore was about two sizes too large for her and looked nearly identical to his favorite one that had disappeared after Buzzsaw attacked. In fact, it even had fancy embroidery covering repairs where he remember the heavy metal chicken's claws had been. As he took off his headphones, he also recognized too many of the slogans on the buttons fastened to the jacket, but kept his mouth shut since they hinted she was at least an anti-Nazi punk.

"Nein! Nein…" she said. "I… I was just waiting on a friend, but they…"

"Bailed on you?"

"Ja…" she said, fidgeting with a fancy camera hanging around her neck that seemed way too high quality to be just the average tourist's kind.

"So what you planning to do now…?" Raoul laughed, keeping his guard up as gently guiding her towards the platform and sized her up as one of those gothy types judging from the ratty t-shirt of a blue alien sex fiend with big orange bug eyes over a boyishly flat chest, the punk jewelry and dark makeup. "Damn! I didn't even ask your name."

"Vester," she replied shyly. "And you must be Raoul, ja?"

"Oh? And where did you hear that?" he asked, grinning at how the way she blushed reminded him of a vanilla ice cream with cherries, kind of like a storybook fairy princess. He then sneaked a peek at her pleasantly plump legs wrapped in torn jeans tight enough she had to have been sewn into them.

"Lenny mentioned it while talking to my brother…"

"Brother?"

"Ja. My brother Victor," she said, looking down at her combat boots.

"Was he the little creep?"

"Oh no! That is Doctor Zed or Herr Radar. They switch over who's running the bodies so often, it's hard to tell which is which… Victor was the tall man in glasses with the violet hair."

"That guy?" asked Raoul, enjoying how she made a German accent cute. "Funny. The way he was acting, I could've sworn Victor was your boyfriend."

"No, he's just very protective…" Vester said, gesturing with her hands and drawing attention to the fact she was wearing black fishnets over pale gray gloves similar to Raoul's. "Victor's always been like this. I'm the only family he has left. Now he's so afraid something else bad will to happen to me that he almost never let's me out his sight for long. I'm a bit surprised I even managed to sneak out to see you again… Uh… Wait…"

"You been following me?" Raoul asked with an even bigger grin.

Vester just sheepishly nodded, her face going nearly as red as her hair.

"Well, I'm kind of flattered," Raoul said gently. "I mean, I'd much rather have a PYT chasing after me than Doctor Creeper."

"P-Y-T?"

"Pretty Young Thing," explained Raoul, pausing a the train rumbled into the station. "By the way, what are you planning on doing now?"

"Going straight back home before Victor notices," Vester said quickly. "Otherwise, he's going to—how do you say? Shit kittens?"

"You could do that," said Raoul with mischievous chuckle as he paused the music and took off the headphones to hear her better. "Or we could go hang out at the mall and get to know each other better. I would love help picking out a some new threads and you seem like the fashionable type."

"I don't know," Vester said hesitantly, letting Raoul help her onto the car and to a seat by the door. "You see, Victor can be a bit… eh, irrational about these things. He might think you have… uh, bad intentions towards me."

"Well honey, I don't care what your brother thinks," Raoul said settling down next to her. "I just want to know what you think. So Vester, do you want to go spend the rest of the day with me or not?"

"I would love to… but my brother is going to be so angry if I do."

"Let me worry about him," Raoul replied, subtly scanning the car just in case and wondering why he felt so edgy. "Ain't the first time I've taken heat from somebody's brother or uncle for 'being a bad influence'."

There was naked fear on her face at that. "You… you might not want to do that… My brother has a very explosive temper…"

Gently wrapping her in a little hug, Raoul smiled. "Look, don't worry about me, okay? I'm just trying to cheer you up because you seem like you need to have a bit a fun for a change. So let's stop worrying about Victor and do what little Vester wants today."

Vester sat there silently for a long moment, then smiled back at him. "You know what? You're right. Let's do what Vester wants today! And what I want is to spend it getting to know you better."

"Fantastic!"

"But I want to make it very clear I'm just doing this to be friendly," said Vester suddenly. "So please don't get any ideas."

"And why would I be getting ideas?"

She flushed even more, giving him an adorable frown as he realized she was barely wearing any foundation at all. "I don't mean to be mean, but I know Americans are always too fast. You're too fast with your food, you're too fast with your words, and you're too fast with… with having… you know…"

"Too fast having sex?" Raoul said with a smirk.

Vester just nodded shyly.

"Well, as an American, I would like to defend my nation by pointing out we've only been a country for about two hundred or so years. We had to be fast to catch up with everybody else," he said, still grinning widely. "But I would like to say that, while I am quick to pick up girls, I ain't pushy and I'm never in a hurry when it comes to the good part… Get me?"

"Are… are you flirting with me?" asked Vester, flustered and puzzled.

"Depends. Do you want me to flirt with you?"

"I… I really don't know," she said softly. "Every time anyone's done that, it never ends well…"

"Why?"

"Victor gets angry… and then people get hurt…"

"He ain't ever hurt you, has he?" Raoul asked, suddenly serious.

"Oh! Nein!" gasped Vester. "He's always very, very gentle around me. It's just that, as I said, my brother is very protective and usually assumes the worst…"

"I take it you don't have a lot a friends because of that, do you?"

"…I have a few, but they're almost all women."

Raoul raised an eyebrow. "So Victor's fine as long as you only hang out with other chicks?"

"…eh, that is one way to put it."

"Does this man not know that lesbians and try-sexual girls exist?"
"Yes, he does know about them," huffed Vester. "But I've never been interested in girls, so he doesn't worry about it. And women aren't as pushy as men are… Except Zoe, but that's just Zoe being Zoe."

"Was she the 'friend' you were waiting on?"

"Nein. Tommy… uh, Mister Arashikage offered to accompany me while I was out because he feels much like my brother about letting me wander this city 'unsupervised'." She paused with a grumpy laugh. "But I guess he got sidetracked after running into his 'brother' again…"

"Brother?" asked Raoul as they got off to make the 7th avenue car.

"Well, not real brothers," she said. "They just trained together at the Arashikage family dojo."

"As students?"

"Yeah. See, they're both ninjas." Vester sighed. "From what my brother's told me, they used to be as close as blood siblings, but then the 'brother' murdered Tommy's uncle, Hard Master, with an arrow for some reason and ran away. And now Tommy has a vendetta against the man."

Raoul let out a thoughtful little huff. "So your big bad brother Victor's willing to start shit with every other guy you meet, but is perfectly cool with this Tommy dude?"

"Well, he's a very, very honorable man," said Vester softly with a sad frown. "And Tommy has made it just as very, very clear that even if he was into my kind, I would still be far too young for his tastes."

"Mind me asking how old you are?"

She blushed shyly, holding up a thumb and two fingers. "I'll be sixteen in about three days from now."

"Whoa…" Raoul said with a little shock, wondering if he should back off now and save himself a lot of grief in the future. "Yeah… I can see why your brother's like that now. Not saying he's right, but I do understand."

"Well, how old are you?" asked Vester suddenly. "You've got to be nineteen or twenty, right?"

"I'll be seventeen in about two more days," Raoul replied, holding up two fingers and wiggling them like bunny ears. The way it made her giggle caused him to decided that she was more than worth the trouble.

Vester gaped at him, clearly surprised. "You're that young?!"

"Yeah. Why else did you think I was hanging around at a high school?"
"High school?"

"Yeah, you know? You got your kindergarten, elementary school then maybe middle school and last high school. Sometimes you end up at a trade school right after elementary, but that's for people that can't make it in regular school."

"Why's that?"

"Usually, it's because they deemed to be to stupid," Raoul grumbled darkly. "I noticed it mostly the kids who ain't got money or make too much trouble that get shipped off to the trade schools."

"That sounds horrible."

He just laughed. "Nah, it ain't that bad. They at least can still learn skills and get a job. You want to hear horrible, then let me tell you how the 'special ed' kids get treated. See, schools like shoving any kids that don't conform into those classes and I can tell you for a fact that it's hell getting out of those classes once the school decides you have a 'learning disabilities'. Even if it's you just speaking Spanish bit too often for the teacher's liking and being very easily bored…" Raoul paused, taking a moment to stifle those unpleasant memories from those three years of elementary school, then continued in a bitter yet casual tone. "But we ain't going to dwell on that right now. You wanted to hear about how American school goes, right?"

"Ja."

"Okay. So, after high school, you maybe go to college if you're lucky enough to have folks who saved the money for you or you earn a scholarship for being either really good at taking tests, really good at sports, or really good at kissing ass. If you're super lucky, you have rich parents that can buy you a free ride at any good university. And if you're really fucking lucky, your parents are obscenely loaded and get you into an Ivy League school, maybe even pay your way all the way through grad school or medical school. But a lot of people I know just get a job right after highs school or they join the military… Or they dropped out to start dealing crack and shit on the corner…"

"The only parts I have ever heard of that was kindergarten and going into the military." Her frown deepened. "But it all sounds really… bleak."

"Ah, don't worry about it," Raoul said with a grin. "You're probably homeschooled and, as of today, my relationship with the shitshow that passes for education in America has ended, so it doesn't matter anymore."

"It's still really—how do you say? Messed up that they put you in remedial classes just for talking in your mother tongue."

"First off, I was born and raised in New York City, so English and Spanish are both my 'mother tongues', thank you very much. It's just that basically none of the idiots teaching can be bothered to learn Spanish or anything else but English… Well, except maybe Lain, but it's a dead language only the nerds are ever gonna use. It only became a 'problem' when the new teacher from Cuba heard me cussing out my math teacher one day," replied Raoul in friendly way. "Second, remedial education is for the kids that ain't able to learn the normal way because they're sick or otherwise can't go to classes. It's more like trade school than special ed. Special ed is where they put you when they label your ass as being too mentally retarded for regular school and basically staple a target on your back for the rest of your life. And my mom had to drag me to practically every doctor in New York and Jersey when I was little just to get these little pieces of paper proving to the school board that I ain't a retard. Doesn't stop them from calling me one, though."

Vester gave him a kicked puppy pout. "That is not a very nice thing to say, Raoul."

"Well, yeah, it ain't nice to call people that actually have things like Downs and other shit that. I mean, they can't help being like that. And a lot of them are such nice people because they've been shit on all their lives," Raoul said with a sigh. "But I am a perfectly normal guy who just never understood why I needed to 'stop reading above my level' or 'only talk using proper English' or 'quit fidgeting and pay attention' or fix whatever other fucking thing the teachers decided that they didn't like about me that day."

"I can kind of understand everything but the 'reading above your level' part. What does that mean?"

"It meant I was six reading shit they claimed only thirteen or fourteen year-olds could understand. I mean, sure, I need to bring along a little dictionary to get some of the words, but it wasn't that big a deal!"

"That sounds less 'disabled' and more 'gifted student' to me," said Vester gently.

"You're only 'gifted' if your a white kid or you act like one of them. Guys like me are 'troublemakers' who are 'corrupting the other children' by 'exposing them to Satanic filth and pornography'."

"Why on Earth would they say that?"

"Because my stupid ass used to bring in my abuelo's old Weird Tales and my uncle's scifi and fantasy books to read. And there were a few too many monsters and naked ladies on the covers."

"Huh! That's weird," Vester said. "I used to read Métal hurlant all the time when I was that age. Of course, at the state home they really didn't care what you did as long as you were quiet."

"Metal hurl-waht?"

"Eh, you call it Heavy Metal in America. See?" She reached into her jacket and fished out a rolled up magazine, flattening it to show a mermaid on the cover proudly declaring it was the '10th anniversary' edition. "Victor has a subscription and shares them with me."

Raoul raised an eyebrow with a chuckle. "So your big bad brother let's you read stuff like Den and Sunpit, but gets mad when you hang around boys? Man, talk about being fickle…"

"In Europe, we have different standards about what is and is not appropriate reading. I've noticed Americans act extremely prudish about things like nudity, sex, or violence yet also absolutely obsess over them all the time. It's king of…oh, what is the word? Means a person is saying one thing but doing the opposite and gets mad when you point it out…"

"Hypocrite," said Raoul. "The word you're looking for is 'hypocrite'. And let me be the first to admit that, yeah, a lot of Americans have bought into the WASP bullshit the Grand Old Party and the fundies have been shoving down our throats. Be good little Protestants and if you do everything right, God's gonna give you a free fucking ride to the middle class dream! All you got to do is follow the rules: no sex before marriage, no drugs, no queers, no Commies, no fun… oh! And most importantly: Whites Only. But I am the first to admit that practically nobody is practicing what they're preaching! Especially not the preachers or the fat bastards running the place!"

"That's true of the bastards in charge wherever you go. It's all broken. The powers that be are all bastards no matter what! Especially the ones in charge the children," grumbled Vester darkly.

"You said something about a state home, right?" asked Raoul quietly. "Did you get stuck at one with a kiddie diddler or something?"

Vester was silent, then hesitantly said, "Yes. There were actually quite a few working there, but my brother's handlers in Berlin made sure nothing happen to me because keeping me safe meant keeping him loyal. Didn't stop me always getting screamed at and beat a lot, but that was just normal at the home. Besides, Auntie Ana got me out before it got too bad because when Victor finally joined the Crimson Guard…"

She stopped abruptly, clamping a hand over her mouth in horror. "Oh! Uh… I forgot I'm not supposed to talk about that…"

"That sounds like some kind of Commie thing," Raoul said gently, putting an arm around her shoulders.

"It's not."

"Still sounds like some crazy spy shit," Raoul said, stealthily keeping an eye on the passengers in the car with them. "And that's not the kind of thing as nice kid like you needs to be involved with."

Vester giggled suddenly. "That's the same thing my brother always says!"

"And he's right. You don't need to be mixed up in it or you'll be hurt."

As she leaned against his shoulder, a funny smile crossed her lips, like she was sad but also angry about something as she said, "I was already badly hurt by that shit."

They fell into an odd silence, which Raoul took advantage of to get a better look at their fellow passengers. Most of them were the normal commuters you get daily in New York, but Raoul's attention was drawn to two clusters of punks at either side of the car. The group to the back looked like they'd just stepped out of The Road Warrior and seemed more focused on joking around and guzzling their beer than causing serious trouble. It was the group at the front that made Raoul worry.

Those guys looked just like the average thug and acted the part, except they had a calm attitude about them that was too disciplined. That alone made Raoul realize they had to be one of those newer gangs out of China Town he'd heard about even before he noticed every one of them was Asian. And his fears were confirmed when he saw the bright red foot decal on the jacket of the biggest guy who likely was their leader. What made it worse was that they all seemed to be on edge about something, maybe expecting the other gang to jump them judging by how they kept sneaking glances that direction.

And then Raoul realized that the Foot guys weren't staring at the apocalyptic bikers. They were watching him.

Raoul stiffened slightly but managed to keep his expression blank as he strained to hear what the Foot guys were saying. Unfortunately, they were speaking in one of those oriental moon-languages that took decades to understand. But their heartbeats along with the nearly invisible expressions and body movements made it clear they were nervous. In fact, a sniff revealed they all had what Raoul realized was literally the scent of fear.

"Don't worry," Vester whispered in his ear, causing Raoul to nearly jump. "They aren't talking about you. They're worried about me."

"Really?" whispered Raoul. "Does bad news like Victor travel that fast?"

Vester just giggled again. "Just don't worry about them, okay?"

"…right." Raoul sighed, briefly considering if he should suggest they get off at Jackson Heights and walk the rest of the way or just ride on to Woodhaven. The former might mean bailing on this girl and leaving her at the mercy of the Foot. A thing that Raoul wasn't sure he could bear to do even though he barely knew her. When Vester cuddled a bit closer to him, Raoul immediately chose the latter even knowing it put him at risk of getting his teeth kicked in once again over yet another pretty girl.

So he settled back into the seat, protectively pulling the adorably flustered little Vester even closer and shooting the Foot guys a nasty look.

The leader returned the look with one that Raoul hadn't expected: it was a sad and pitying, like he felt sorry for the boy.

"You're a fool," those eyes seemed to say. "You're a fool and you will suffer for your stupidity."

Raoul just turned back to Vester, but kept watching them from the corner of his eye. The Foot thugs got off at the next stop, but that didn't ease his nerves. He'd seen set-ups go down before and really didn't relish the idea of getting caught up in one. And the bikers were still there, boozed up and rowdy. As he took another look at them, he noticed one had that same too calm attitude and a slow, relaxed heartbeat that made Raoul even more nervous.

He sneakily studied that guy, noting that he wore a bulky hoodie with the hood drawn up so it hid all but his eyes. And those eyes were strange, being thickly rimmed around with what might be kohl or grease paint like he'd painted his face up like a reject from KISS. Then again, his buddies had similarly outrageous makeup so it might just be a thing for their gang.

But it didn't explain why the hooded guy was watching him.

Raoul unfortunately didn't have time to wonder about it as the hooded guy casually strolled over to them and sat down on his other side as the other bikers came stumbling over to surround them.

"'ello dearie," the hood said in polite, businesslike monotone that must be what Death sounded like, leaning to look at Vester. "You know your not supposed to go roaming around without a chaperon, right buster?"

"What business is that of yours, buddy?" Raoul shot back, hiding his nervousness under bravado.

The hood just laughed. "I wasn't talking to you."

"Yeah, well maybe she don't want to talk to you," said Raoul, putting up the tough guy act even more when he noticed the fright on Vester's face.

"Hey, Zartan," rumbled a biker in shades that smelled heavily of burnt bleach mixed with gasoline. "You gonna let this punk talk to you like that?"

"I let you lot talk shit all the time," sighed Zartan, punching Raoul's arm in a friendly manner. "And Raoul's one of us now, ain't you?"

"No, I ain't," Raoul answered, sitting up straighter but keeping his cool. "Every guy I've known who got involved with a gang is either now in prison or the morgue. The gang-banger life asks too much of a guy, so I'm going to stay freelance, thanks."

Zartan shrugged. "I can see your point. But you have to admit that there are some benefits to joining up, like safety in numbers. And my boys and I would appreciate having another mechanic around, especially one who knows how to keep his mouth shut."

"You don't know that. I mean, as soon as we get away from you, Vester and I might be going to talk with the cops."

"No. No, you won't." As the other bikers chuckled, Zartan pulled a crumpled file folder from his pocket. "Says here you've got quite a record, my boy. Mostly theft and petty crimes, but looks like you've developed quite a nasty temper in the last few years with all these 'violent' offenses."

"Yeah, but if you's actually read it, most of that was self-defense."

"Self-defense?" Zartan laughed dryly. "Well, yes. I can certainly see how that. Guess you know how it is to be the poor little wifey who finally snaps after taking a loser of a man's shit for years…"

"Look, I ain't interested in joining up," Raoul said calmly, biting back his rage as he protectively snuggled a silent Vester closer. "And even if I was, I think I'm just a bit too dark for the Hell's Angels."

"We're not Angels," said Zartan. "We're the Dreadnoks."

"Used to hang with 'em while I was with the Maulers," the gasoline man said thoughtful. "Bit too hung up on the formalities for my tastes, but the Angels threw the best damn parties."

"Yeah," grumbled a young woman with short, shockingly pink hair who was sitting across from. "But Torch, you gotta be careful about catching whiskey dick at those…"

"You're just mad Zartan won't let you fuck around with those blokes no more," rumbled a stunning handsome thug sprawled on the seat next to her. He sounded drunk off his ass, but the way he got smoothly to his feet and came over to stand next to Torch destroyed the act. Grinning, he looked Raoul over somewhat hungrily. "You're kind of cute…"

"Zander!" huffed the pink woman as she gave him an elbow to the ribs. "Don't you dear go breaking up such a happy couple… 'Sides, I saw 'em first…"

"Oi! What are you on about Zarana?" Zander grumbled. "I just said he's cute. Ain't like I was the idiot who fucked around with old chromedome and got the Baroness on my ass."

"She ain't on my ass anymore," grumbled Zarana. "'Cause I didn't actually fuck her old man, okay? Turned me down flat every time. Turns out, he really is a one woman man… Besides, I ain't gonna let you do my precious little baby monster here dirty like that."

Cringing as she pinched her cheek, Vester muttered, "Zoe… Stop, you're embarrassing me…"

"Aw, don't be like that!" she cooed, letting go and turning to Raoul. "I'm just happy to see my little darling's found somebody. But if I find out you hurt a hair on their little head, I'll cut your balls off and fucking give you a Colombian necktie."

"Don't plan on it," said Raoul, surprised that he was still so damn calm despite being dead sober and panicking in his head. It was an unpleasant feeling, as if another, much more ruthless version had taken over while the real Raoul was still trapped inside without any way to fight back. "And I thought your name was 'Zartana'."

Zarana groaned angrily. "Some pencil-pushing cunt wrote it down like that once, and now every official document has got it as fucking Zartana!"

"Yeah…" said Zander, still checking Raoul out. "Sounds more fitting for our brother's old lady than his sister. Right, Zartan?"

Zartan just shrugged, checking a watch as they pulled into Woodhaven station. "I suppose. But we got more pressing matters to attend. And it won't do to keep Saki and his itchy little feet waiting."

The other Dreadnoks grumbled out some good byes as they filed out, quickly dispersing in a very strategic way that put Raoul even further on edge. It wasn't helped by the way Zartan hung behind, waiting for him and Vester on the platform.

"You want to come along?" he asked with a polite malice which reminded Raoul of Uncle Chucky. "I wouldn't mind help. Might even be a bit of fun."

"No, thank you," said Raoul, suspecting he knew exactly how bloody that 'fun' was going to be.

Zartan shrugged again. "Well, if you change your mind, just head to Chinatown and follow the screaming."

"Sure."

With a little wave, Zartan quickly disappeared into the crowd but Raoul waited a few minutes before leading Vester back up to the street. They walked along in silence for a little bit before Vester finally broke it with a mousy sigh, looking shamefaced and sad.

"I am so sorry about that," she said.

"About what? You're brother's friends hassling you?"

Vester started to argue, then sighed again. "They aren't really his 'friends'. More like 'business associates'."

"Right…"

"Look, it's… it isn't as bad as you think…" she gasped nervously. "See, my brother only joined-"

"To get you out of East Germany, right?" said Raoul with a gentle smile, pointedly avoiding saying the organization's name. "Listen, honey, I ain't going to worry about that shit right now. You seem too damn sweet and innocent to be running with gangbangers and terrorists."

Vester frowned. "I think you might be being too kind…"

"Aw, don't be sad!" Raoul hummed, wrapping an arm around her and using his other hand to take the bug Zartan had put on him off before flicking it into the garbage. "How about we get something to eat? My treat."

"All right. That sounds nice…"

And so they walked down several blocks in a pleasant silence, Raoul gallantly putting himself between the car choked street and Vester. He eventually lead them to a small diner tucked just off on a side street that he used to go get coffee with his uncle after they'd see Lenny. As he held the door for Vester, Raoul was a bit surprised to see the place was empty save for that special breed of old men who spent so much of their lives at diners they might as well be part of the décor. Then he noticed a trio of burly, tattooed Chinese men sitting towards the front of the diner, playing cards and quietly drinking coffee. Fighting off the returning dread, Raoul helped Vester into a booth by the door and sat down across from her so he could watch the door and have an unobstructed view of the street.

"Good morning," said the waitress as she brought over some menus, then she got a good look at Raoul. "Oh no…"

"Oh, hi Maggie!" Raoul said with a nervous smile. "Funny seeing you here. I thought your folks didn't want you working Saturdays…"

"They don't," grumbled Maggie, crossing her arms as she glared at Raoul. "But Tina called in sick and Stacy ran off to Atlantic City with that piece of shit she left you for. Apparently, he decided they have to get married, like, right now."

"You mean Shaohao Li?" asked Raoul, not hiding his disgust. "Guy who used to sell me weed out of the back of his gramp's restaurant? Bit of a dumb-ass who turned his back on the crew to hang with gangsters because he thinks it makes him look tough? Dude who's family are making him and his sisters wear dog collars padlocked to their necks till they get married to prevent some freaky curse or shit? That Shaohao Li?"

"Yeah. That Li."

"Shit! If I were her, I'd be scared he's going to sell me off to some rich sicko from the Middle East or something…"

"Yeah, I'd have thought that too. But apparently, Li really means it. Not only did he drag Stacy down to Jersey, but he brought along almost every member of both her and his own family to be at the ceremony. He's also paying for it all out of his own pocket. Li even asked her uncle Nickie to be there after he found out he's back in town. He was really, really insistent on having them all there, too."

Raoul raised an eyebrow. "Huh… That sounds really fishy to me…"

"Yeah, well… It's the kind of big, flashy, stupid thing Li always like to do," Maggie said with a shrug. "Just between you and me, I think he got her knocked up and her daddy found out and went with all his brothers to have a talk with Li. Which might explain why he was looked like the fear of G-d had been beat into him when he picked Stacy up last night…"

"Or maybe shit's about to hit the fan in Chinatown and Li wanted any reason to get the fuck out of town?"

"Well, yeah…" hummed Maggie. "Funny you knew about that… Mrs. Kwan was telling mom about that new Jap gang who's been picking fights around here lately, but according to her we're safe as long as we stay in the 'round eyed barbarian' neighborhoods. Her words, not mine, though I think Mrs. Kwan was just trying to make mom feel better with another one of her bad jokes."

"The Old Dragon Lady's been in?" Raoul said, surprised but hiding the swelling dread.

"Yeah. She's in the back helping mom out in the kitchen. Seems like Ken also bailed today."

Raoul glanced at the burly men, then back at Maggie. "So those her boys?"

"Yeah…"

Vester gave them both a funny look. "…dragon lady?"

"Yeah," said Raoul. "And that ain't just because she's a very scary Chinese lady. Apparently, Mrs. Kwan's great-great-grandfather fucked a dragon and the dragon had left him the egg to raise. Like, she's literally related to a dragon goddess …well, according to Mrs. Kwan anyway. But the old girl's been known to exaggerate and loves telling tall tales."

"By the way, who's this?" Maggie asked, smiling at Vester but giving Raoul a dirty side glance.

"Uh-oh! Vester, this is Magda Stankiewicz."

"Maggie's just fine, honey," she said. "And before you ask, I'm one of his ex-girlfriends."

"We're still friends, right?" said Raoul hurriedly.

"Depends. You still got that evil car?"

"What? What are you talking about, Maggie?"

Maggie glared at him. "You know what I'm talking about. That blue 'vette with the flaming chicken on his hood. The one that's possessed by a dybbuk."

"He's not possessed by a demon…"

"I didn't say demon. No demon's that malicious and catty!" hissed Maggie. "That thing is a dybbuk, the evil ghost of the bitchiest queen to ever go mincing into the afterlife! You need to take that thing to a rabbi… Hell! You ought get a priest, a preacher, a Buddhist monk, and one of those Muslim guys too just to be sure he's exorcise out of there for good!"

"Tracks isn't a demon or dibby-whatever you said," Raoul said, angrily adding another name to the list of girls the Autobot had driven off. "He's one of those transforming alien robots, okay? …though he might actually be their kind's version of Jewish, now that I think about it."

"Well, whatever he is, Tracks is a royal bitch!" huffed Maggie. "And I was one of the lucky ones! He just scared the living daylights out of me once or twice to nag at me. I heard from Sophie he was even nastier to most of your other dates."

"Really?" asked Raoul in shock. "And just who else did he pull that shit with?"

"Let's see… Besides me and Sophie, there was Tammy, Stacy, Becky, Jeanne, Melissa, Jessie and Jennie…oh, and Chris, Parker, and James too…" she said, lisping the last three names. "And those are just the people I know about! But apparently, he got on super well with Miss Prissy Chrisy because their both absolutely vicious and your car's into younger men. But as much as he loves the evil bastard, Chris agrees with me that you've been driving the Queen Bitch of the Tri-state Area in car form."

"He was always nice to me," said a dark-haired little girl who darted up to the table. "Tracks even let me sit on the driver's side and listen to the radio while you two were 'studying' upstairs…"

"Oh, so that's why he kept ripping me a new over 'failing as a babysitter'," growled Maggie. "And ain't you supposed to be doing your homework, Ethel?"

"Well, dad told me to tell you to stop bothering the customers!" Ethel huffed back. "So take their order and quit bugging Raoul while he's out on a date his nice, quiet new girlfriend."

"Oh! I'm… I'm not his girlfriend," said Vester with a blush.

"She's a new friend of mine," Raoul said politely.

Maggie gave him a look. "…she's wearing your jacket, Raoul."

"What? It's cold out…"

"I ain't seen you wearing it since you got jumped."

"Maybe I wanted to try a new look."

"Yeah… So why have Sophie and Tish seen this chick running around after you for a while? Seems kind of funny she's got your jacket and now you turn up with her in tow. They been saying she's got a boyfriend. And it ain't you…"

"That's Vester's big brother, Victor."

"Really? So why you letting her wear your jacket, Raoul? Everybody's seen her creeping around wherever your at, but this is the first time you two been out in the open together. Which is really funny, because Tish said you're shacking up with another rich white guy now."

"That's actually Tracks," grumbled Raoul. "They've got this fancy hologram puppet things so they can interact with humans better. See, we're not actually dating. He just got me evicted and has a friend who had a penthouse to loan him."

"For real?! Why the hell would anybody just let you have a penthouse?"

"Apparently, the lady that owns it is a friend of the Autobots, so she did it as a favor. And Tracks has been doing all this because he's now my legal guardian and bodyguard."

"Bodyguard?"

"…it's complicated. Involves a bunch of other robots trying to kill me."

"O-kay… Still doesn't explain why she's got your jacket, Raoul. You acting kind of suspicious here…"

"Can't a guy loan out his clothes in this town?"

"So what's up with all the buttons, huh?"

"Maybe I let her decorate a bit."

"Right…"

Raoul sighed. "Look… We're just friends, okay?"

"Really?!" Ethel said brightly. "So, that means you're single, right Raoul?"

"Uh, yeah?"

A broad smile broke across the little girl's face. "Well, how about you date me? I've always wanted a nice boyfriend with a cool car!"

"Ethel…" growled her sister.

"What? You dumped him!" Ethel huffed. "That means he's fair game!"

Raoul rolled his eyes. "Ethel, sweetie, how old are you again?"

"I'll be seven this November," she said proudly.

"Well, honey, that's… uh, that's a bit too young to be dating," Raoul said as gently as he could. "But tell you what: If by the time you're about seventeen or so and I'm available, how about we start dating then?"

Ethel's face turned stern as she solemnly said, "Ten years or so? Okay. Then I'll wait for you, Raoul. And, even though I'll be a famous movie star by then, I won't even think about going out with any other boys! But you promise you'll keep your end of the deal."

"Sure," answered Raoul. "I'm a man of my word. If you still want to date me when your old enough, then I'll be your man. That sound good?"

"Great!" she said, solemnly taking his hand and shaking it before retreating to the back of the restaurant with an air of giddy joy.

"You shouldn't have told her that," grumbled Maggie.

"Why not?" said Raoul with a shrug. "Look, little Ethel's going to be as gorgeous as you are when she grows up. By the time she's seventeen, she's going too busy taking her pick of the boys to even remember a thing about our little promise. So don't worry about it."

"I don't know," hummed Vester. "She seemed very serious about it."

"Yeah, that's the thing about my sister… Once she gets it in her head that she wants something, she's going to get it no matter what," chuckled Maggie. "But I've got a warn you, sweetie, you better be careful about that kind of thing with Raoul here, too."

"Why?"

"Oh, he's saying your just friends. But if Raoul here decides he likes you, then he's going to start being all sweet and charming and then… BOOM! You'll be dating."

Vester smirked a little. "And then he's going to be a nightmare, right?"

"Oh no!" Maggie said, grinning at the look on Raoul's face. "It's much worse than that… See, despite how he acts, Raoul here's actually an honest to G-d catch! I mean, my folks would normally go ballistic if I brought home a black guy but they made an exception for Raoul because he's actually got his shit together. See, unlike most of the nasty ass boys around here, he can hold down a job and is super loyal. He also always uses a rubber no matter what, unlike most guys who'll be bitching and moaning if you even ask if they got one handy. Not only that, but that big mouth of his is good for more than talking and he's such a giver, if you get me…"

"A giver? What does that mean" asked Vester, confused by her tone and the wink Maggie gave her.

"Yeah… See, Raoul here ain't happy unless you're happy, you know?"

"I'll have the number three with bacon and a pot of coffee," rasped Raoul before Vester could ask for a more detailed explanation. "What would you like, sweetie?"

"I'll have the same," she replied after glancing at the menu before handing them over to Maggie. "Oh, and may I have a lot of creamer and sugar?"

"Sure, honey. Anything for the condemned's last meal," Maggie said with a giggle as she wrote it down and went back to the kitchen.

"You're blushing," said Vester as soon as she'd gone.

"Yeah, well… I just got propositioned by a toddler here…" Raoul grumbled, fishing out a cigarette then offering to pack to Vester.

"No thank you. I don't smoke," she said sweetly. "But I still want to know what she meant by you being a 'giver'?"

"Uh… it's kind of not the thing to talk about in public…" said Raoul as he lit up and took a drag. "I don't think it's right to leave a girl hanging just because you already got yours. And I love the taste, you know?"

"…it's a sex thing, isn't it?"

Feeling like his face was on fire, Raoul silently nodded.

"So what Sophie and those other girls were telling me about you being 'good with your hands' is true?" she asked shyly. "And what did they mean when they kept saying you were hanged well?"

"Don't worry about it. Besides, you really shouldn't believe everything you hear…" Raoul replied, but caved under the little pout she gave him. "All I'm going to say is that when the guys are all boasting and bragging, I about the only one who can back it up. And I'd like to know why you've been asking about me…"

Now Vester was flushing in embarrassment. "Uh… well, I… I was curious about you after seeing at Moisis's deli since I all I knew about was from the files and that picture didn't do you any…" She stopped suddenly, clamping a hand over her mouth. "Oh! I mean… uh… opps."

"Files." Raoul said the word in a flat tone, abruptly aware of a faint throbbing in the back of his skull. "Let me guess: those are the one a bunch of snakes have about me, isn't it?"

"Yes…" she said sadly. "But there's also the one Herr Radar has, too. And it's… it's much more detailed. Even had your new phone number…"

"Really? And mind telling me if you ever, say, called it only to hang up as soon as I picked up?"

"…yes." She stared down at the table, then glanced up at him through her lashes. "I'm sorry. But I… I always got too scared to say anything… I just like your voice… And Maggie's right about Tracks being a mean old bitch…"

"And why do you say that?"

Vester laughed dryly. "Because every time he'd answer, Tracks would always say you two had already made plans or something like that…"

"He did what?" Raoul said, blinking in shock.

"Tracks always said you had plans with him," Vester replied. "And, from what I found out from your… uh, your other friends, he'd tell them all the same thing. Especially if they were girls. He's a very, very jealous man…"

Raoul frowned darkly. "Funny. Just about an hour or so ago, Tracks looked me dead in the eye and told me to get myself a 'nice human'…"

"It sounded to me more like he is deep in denial…" muttered Vester. "From what I've seen, no matter what he says, Tracks has no intention whatsoever of letting you free. Especially not since Saratoga…"

The frown only deepened. "…hey! Wait a minute here… Just how long have you been following me?"

"Ah! Here comes the food," Vester said brightly as Maggie brought out their order.

Raoul decided to let his question slid for the time being and joined Vester in eating. The meal passed mostly in silence, broken only occasionally whenever the coffee ran low or by bit of small talk about things like the weather or a bit of music or the latest tragedy the news had been going about how Circuit Breaker's most recent tantrum in New Jersey caused an air ambulance to crash, killing not only the entire crew but also a mother and her three year-old son on their way to get him a transplant or something like that. Finally, after they'd cleaned the plates on their fourth serving, Raoul paid and said good bye to Maggie, who'd been shocked nearly speechless by the hundred dollar bill he'd left as her tip.

It was when they'd just a block from the mall that Vester broke the awkward silence they'd been walking in.

"I… I really am sorry," she said softly. "I've not been following you too long, to be honest. You see, when I saw your picture, I… I got curious about you. So I… I asked Buzzy if he had anything and that's when he showed me all the footage he'd stolen from the Autobots involving you… including the one of you humping Tracks' fender…"

"Buzzy?" asked Raoul, the dread growing almost as painful as the throbbing in his skull.

"Oh… right. I forgot you've… you've already meet him…" Vester replied. "But he's really not that bad. He even let Mega fix up this jacket for me."

"We're talking about the tinfoil turkey, right?" said Raoul with a clenched jaw as the throbbing traveled down through his face.

"He's actually a condor."

"And you're all buddy-palsy with that fucker?"

Vester frowned. "Honestly, I wouldn't call Buzzy's a 'friend'. He is too much of an artist to really be too nice to anyone. Such things are too plebeian for his tastes. He's more of an 'acquaintance'…"

"They tried to murder Tracks," Raoul hissed softly.

"Well, they're on opposite sides of the war," Vester replied.

"Tracks was just bringing Blaster, the cassettes, and me back from hanging with the guys when they jumped us. We were just driving along and the bastards jumped us… I don't even think they knew we were with the big guy… They were clearly out to get him. They had no reason…"

"There's a war going on," said Vester, giving Raoul an oddly jealous look. "And you sound angrier about Tracks getting hurt than about how Buzzy almost killed you."

Raoul just shrugged, noticing the strangely hateful way she said Tracks just then. "Yeah, well… I'm used to guys trying to off me."

Another silence fell as they walked. Raoul felt that odd throbbing subside but leaving a weird sound in his head, the white noise of a radio set to the static between stations. Then just at the mall's entrance, Raoul asked quietly, "Just why did you want my jacket any way?"

Vester blushed again, shyly looking down at her feet. "Uh… well, it's chilly out and this is too nice a jacket just to stay stuck on the wall of Buzzy's silly trophy nest, so I asked Ana to ask Ravage to ask him for it."

"I can guess that went over well…" chuckled Raoul, making a note about Buzzsaw's nasty little habit.

"Actually, he was just fine about things," said Vester with a sweet little smile. "Buzzy was more than happy to part with it when Mega said she was going to sew it back together for me. See, he and Beaky are curious about Earth arts like embroidery."

"You telling me the homicidal chickens wanted to watch a broad sew?"

"Like I said, they're curious about Earth arts. Especially stuff with fabrics and sewing," Vester said in a quiet tone. "Apparently, textiles aren't very common where they're from and are something of a high status thing. The Reflector are even trying to learn crochet."

Raoul raised an eyebrow. "You telling me there's a 'con out there, sitting at the bad guy central, trying to make granny squares?"

"They're not that bad at it," said Vester with a giggle. "Spectro's gotten good enough that he's making more complex things. And he's learned to knit, too. He even gave me a sweater."

"[Yeah]" said a proud voice, speaking Cybertronian with a British accent from the static in Raoul's head. "[I am so good at the yarn thing!]"

"[…oh Primus…]" huffed another British voice, snobbish despite sounding like a reject John Lennon. "[Please, don't start this again…]"

There was a faint laugh and a third voice said, "[Sweetie, tell your boy just to ignore Viewfinder. He's just mad he keeps getting tangled up.]"

Raoul stopped dead in his tracks and looked at Vester. "Uh… Did you…"

"It's a commlink," she said in a mild tone. "If you can hear them, that means the implants have finished growing in."

Raoul stared at her. "…I got a radio. In my head?!"

"It's not that odd," huffed Viewfinder in halting English. "And by the way, I suggest you adjust your settings, Hellrider. You're broadcasting over an unsecured frequency. [I'd have thought Soundwave would have taught you basic security.]"

"[Why the fuck would I want to listen anything that bastard said?!]" hissed Raoul as he subvocalized the way he'd learned while in the VR world.

"[Because I am always listening]" droned Soundwave. "[And so are the Autobots.]"

Raoul stiffened, clenching the handle of the lunchbox hard enough to make his knuckles white as invisible fingers dug briefly in his head to tweak things, even causing a HUD to flash into his vision before withdrawing. He took a breath, then growled over the line "[Stay the fuck out my head, you goddamn piece of shit!]"

Spectro chuckled suddenly, reminding Raoul of an evil Ringo Starr. "[Yeah, good luck with that mate! 'Wave's spends so much time in other people's heads, it's a wonder he even knows which thoughts are his…]"

"[And he needs to quit doing that shit, or he's gonna get hit again…]" rumbled a very deep voice that made even that particularly harsh Brooklyn accent sound strangely sexy to Raoul's ears.

All Soundwave did was laugh his weird laugh before disconnecting.

There was a moment's silence, then the deep voice growled, "[He didn't need to poke around your head, Hellrider. All he had to do was tell you what settings to change. But I guess Soundwave never likes to miss a chance to be a raging bastard to the new guys…]"

"[You know he's still listening, TC]" said the third voice nervously.

"[And Spyglass do you honestly think I give a flying fuck?]" TC rumbled back, then in a nicer tone said, "[Sorry. By the way, I'm Thundercracker, but just call me TC. Everybody does… And these three you've been talking to are the Reflector. They're siblings and a total meld gestalt, so just heads up that when you talk to one of them, you're talking to all three at once. It can be kind of hard for people to get used to, especially since Viewfinder has a nasty habit of collecting data on everybody they meet. By the way, what's the fuck is up with your voice? You sound worse than Sunder…]"

"[I got his vocalizer. And I seen porn of you…]" Raoul blurted out while making some adjustments to his HUD so it was less distracting.

"[How recent?]" asked TC, a soft threat to his tone.

"[Uh, not very… I think it's only all pre-war stuff 'Sides sent me.]"

"[Oh. Good…]" TC said, sounding relieved about something.

"He's still mad about somebody catching him with Bee and sharing the footage around," whispered Vester as she leaned up to Raoul's ear.

"[I heard that, buster] hissed TC. "[Remember, the Reflector are my friends…]"

"Bee?[Like, the little yellow VW Beetle Bee, right?]" said Raoul with a bit of surprise. Then he paused to think a bit before adding, "[You telling me it fit?]"

"[Yeah]" said Spectro with a bluntly impressed tone. "[Little Bee-tch took it all right to the hilt like a champ! First time, too!]"

"[And that's more than enough about my private life for the day]" snapped TC with a low growl. "[I'm sure the lovebirds would like to get on with their date in peace…]"

"[It's not a date]" Vester huffed over the commlink. "[Raoul just asked me to help him pick out some new clothes. Just as friends!]"

"[…right]" hummed TC in a way that made it obvious he was smirking. "[Well, I'm going to let you two get on with it. Now have a nice day.]"

As TC signed off, Raoul turned his attention to the Reflector. "[So, are you three going to leave too?]"

"[Nah]" said Spyglass, whom Raoul couldn't decide if he was the Paul or the George of the group. "[We'll just keep hanging about, mate.]"

"They're the camera," said Vester, holding up it up so Raoul could see the tiny little Decepticon insignia on it.

"[We volunteered to be his chaperons]" said Viewfinder. "[And I want record human courtship and mating. We're making a documentary, you see.]"

"[You know there's this thing called 'pornography']" hissed Raoul as Vester went redder. "[So maybe use that instead of being perverts…]"

Viewfinder snorted derisively. "[Seriously? Pornography is to actual sex as an action movie is to actual battle. It would be absolutely abysmal cinematic integrity to just include scenes that were clearly staged solely for the titillation of viewers instead of properly depicting how things are done in a real world setting. Trust us! We used to sometimes work for studios specializing in pornographic films and publications prior to the war. You would not believe the things done in the name of a good wank!]"

"[It's actually more like comparing a street fight to the WWE]" Spyglass hummed cheerfully. "[Porn's meant to look good on camera, not actually be enjoyable for the participants. I mean, it can be fun but the goal is to make something the audience can get their rocks off to, with the performers just being there to provide a… well, a performance.]"

Spectro chuckled. "[Yeah. That's why there's all those weird angles and things. Audiences want and expect to see certain things, like spikes going in and out of valves or moneyshots. But you really can't get that sort of thing if the talent's fucking like normal, so they have to be in positions that look great when filmed but ain't going to work if you're trying to have a good fuck.]"

"[And they're also in front of a whole crew]" added Spyglass. "[Plus, I don't think most folks have a fluffer or stunt spike on hand if they happen to go limp in the heat of the moment.]"

"[Fluffer?]" asked Raoul.

"[They're basically professional erection maintainers]" said Spyglass. "[The fluffer's job is to use any means necessary to make sure the talent's spike stays hard throughout the shoot. Because they're going to have to keep it up for joors and joors per scene, plus whatever reshoots need to be done and what not. Even heard of some guys getting injections of stiffeners right to the spike or installing manual pumps to keep up their end.]"

"[And the fluffers also got to keep all the valves lubed up and at the ready, too]" Spectro said sagely. "[Can't have them drying out while we're waiting on the director to decide on how he wants the scene set up or the lighting guy's readjusting because they want an upshot or things like that…]"

"[In short]" huffed Viewfinder. "[Porn's not real. It's meant solely as entertainment to wank to. Which means it's useless for my purposes, so I would appreciate your cooperation in helping me in my efforts to document actual human courtship and mating in the wild. Thank you both kindly.]"

"[And what makes you think anything going go down today?]" Raoul hissed back, gently guiding a mortified Vester through the mall's crowds.

"[I did say that I'm documenting courtship behaviors]" said Viewfinder. "[So while I'd be very, very pleased to catch you both engaging in coitus, I'm just happy with what we've observed so far.]"

"[You are a sick little pervert.]"

"[Actually, I'm both an asexual and an aromantic]" Viewfinder grumbled. "[Sex really isn't appealing to me, nor is romance.]"

"[Spectro and me like any gender]" said Spyglass, his happy tone cementing him as the Paul McCartney of the trio in Raoul's mind.

"[You mean your both bi?]" asked Raoul, leading Vester to a drugstore.

"[Uh, not really. I… I don't know the word for it on Earth, but my brother and me ain't picky when it comes to gender. We aren't really picky about much, to be honest. Well, except if it's one of Soundwave's cassettes… I mean, sure, the twins are on a mission to fuck everything they can… But Soundwave don't take too kindly to anybody messing with his 'wee babies', so the little bastards are off limits… And we ain't stupid enough to fuck either Rumble or Frenzy, right Spectro?]"

Spectro coughed suddenly. "[Uh, yeah… about that…]"

Viewfinder made a strangled noise. "[You fucking didn't do what I think you did…]"

"[Twins, View. Twins…]" whimpered Spectro in a miserable tone. "[We were just knocking back a few cubes… I'd had a few before, so I was already deep in me cups… They were ready and rearing to go! I… I couldn't help myself…]"

"[You did what?]" Soundwave rumbled suddenly. There was a low growl, then he said with clipped politeness, "[I will speak to the Reflector in private. Raoul and Vester are dismissed from chat until further notice.]"

Spyglass made a gagging sound as he said, "[Spectro, you stupid bastard! They'd caught the Jack from Warp and that must've been how we—]"

The line suddenly went dead, leaving Raoul and Vester standing there in a moment of silence.

"Mind me asking how old the twins are?" Raoul said, taking up a shopping basket and grabbing a cheap nylon backpack out from the display by the door.

"About my age, comparatively speaking," replied Vester in a dazed tone. "And since Soundwave is an ordained priests…"

"Oh… They're the preacher's kids," Raoul said, laughing as he began to browse the aisle.

"Preacher's kids?"

"Yeah," said Raoul, trying to find the cheapest disposable razors he could. "See, there's two kinds of preacher's kids. The first are the ones who are super uptight, goody-goody brown-nosers who'll narc on you for any little thing. The other kind are the preacher's kids who go absolutely buck wild. But both kinds are always down for some of the nastiest shit imaginable…"

"You sound like you're talking from experience," muttered Vester, picking out a nice safety razor and economy pack of blades and traded them out for the cheap razors. "Here, these should work better and won't bother your face as much."

"Thanks. And yeah… I went out with a couple," Raoul grumbled, grabbing some shaving cream along with a bottle of Old Spice and a double pack of Irish Spring before moving on to the hair products. "But I ain't going to bother with any more preacher's kids, because they're all fucking hypocrites. The latter are always acting like they can get away with their bullshit because they 'found Jesus' already. The first kind are even the worse, always preaching at you for being Catholic headed straight to Hell instead of a 'true' Christian who got a guaranteed place in Heaven because they're 'saved'. Like Jesus really gives a flying fuck… I mean, the man was hanging with hookers and turning water into wine at parties! He really ain't going to care whether you're a Methodist or a Baptist or whatever! He just asked everybody to chill and be nice to each other."

Vester giggled, plucking the relaxer out of Raoul's hands. "That is a very… unique way to put it. I'm sure my old religious studies teacher would have not been too pleased to hear that…"

"Why? Jesus was big on charity and helping the 'meek'," said Raoul with a smirk as he took the relaxer back. "I'm a bit surprised they taught religion in East Germany. I thought Commies didn't believe in God."

"Actually, I was raised Lutehrian. The state had co-oped the churches sometime in the sixties, to better control people. It is the opiate of the masses," Vester said sweetly, taking the relaxer away again and putting it back. "And you don't need that."

"Honey, you don't know how nappy my hair is right now," Raoul said, reaching for the box again but getting his hand brushed away. "Seriously. I got some really bad hair."

"Really? I think it's quite nice," Vester replied, lightly" pinching a loose curl between his fingers and letting it spring free. "You just have very curly hair. And I think it looks good on you."

"You need to be careful about saying that kind of thing. Somebody might think you got a case of jungle fever…"

"What?"

"Jungle fever," repeated Raoul, letting Vester lead him over to shampoos. "It's when white girls get the hots for black guys or dark-skinned Latino guys because… well, we ain't white. Those are the white girls (and white guys, too) that only want to fuck you because your a different race. They don't care about who you are, but what you are."

"That's… strange," Vester said with a frown, quickly putting the various black dyes back on the shelf as soon as Raoul put them into the basket. "That must be an American thing, because I've never noticed it at all in Europe. I mean, some older folks can be rude about people dating outside of their race, but most of the time it's not really that big a deal."

"Yeah…" hummed Raoul a bit sarcastically, tossing a tube of Prell into the basket along with some hot oil and Queen Helene's Cholesterol Cream.

"What is this?" asked Vester, picking the tub up and looking at it with a puzzled pout. "And how in the world do you use it?"

"That right there is a miracle," Raoul said sternly. "All you need to do is wash your hair, get it damp dry, take a glob of this plus a little water to get it foamy then work it into your hair. Then you wrap it all up in plastic wrap, then wrap a towel over that and leave it for about half an hour. You finish by rinsing it all out and drying your hair. It'll make even this nappy mess of mine behave. And it'll also work to soften crusty elbows and feet, too!"

"That sounds a bit complicated. You could just use regular conditioner."

"Oh honey… no. That might work for white people, but I'm Puerto Rican sweetie. And I got the bad hair like my abuelo, so I either have to keep it shaved in a crewcut like he used to or break out the big guns to get my hair to not look like a fucking rat's nest."

"What's an abuelo?"

"My grandfather. On my mom's side. See, his family were super dark and almost never got any good hair. He was a real stand up guy, though, and worked his ass off to prove himself to my aubela's folks so they'd give the wedding their blessing. They still ended up eloping, though, because my Aunt Rita raised all kinds of hell and got everybody else riled up about having a nigger in the family." Grinning, Raoul added nastily, "But it worked out in the end, since they stayed together till my abuelo died. Aunt Rita's on her sixth divorce now and can't figure out why she don't get invited to the holiday dinners or family gatherings no more…"

"…I wonder if Victor and I are lucky to be orphans," murmured Vester thoughtfully. "But these thing happen on your father's side too, right?"

Raoul laughed coldly, selecting a steel comb and a bristle brush. "I really wouldn't know, since I ain't too close to that side of my family. They're all Mexican and got lucky enough to have a lot of Spanish blood, so they have that good and thick hair which behaves."

"But Puerto Ricans are Spanish too, right?" asked Vester in a charmingly confused tone. "I don't see much of a difference between them and Mexicans or anybody else from Latin America…"

"Oh Vester… Sweet little darling, there's a huge difference," Raoul sighed as he picked out a toothbrush, toothpaste and a bottle of mouthwash. "But it's really complicated, so I'll just say that Puerto Ricans have practically nothing in common with Chicanos except maybe sharing a religion and speaking Spanish. And that last part is debatable given how fast they talk on the West Coast…"

"But you're both, right?"

"Nope! I am a Puerto Rican boy, born and raised in New York." He laughed again, much more warmly as he smiled and grabbed some deodorant. "And there's not a damn thing in the universe that's ever going to change that."

Giving him a sidelong look as they went up to the counter, Vester said softly, "…okay. I'll take your word for that."

"Look, don't get too worried about it, honey," Raoul said as he began unloading the basket for the cashier, a youngish looking guy. He smiled at the cashier and asked in a casual voice, "Can I please get a twelve pack of Durex Extra Strong and some KY Jelly?"

"Jelly? From a pharmacist?" Vester looked adorably confused as the smirking cashier went to get them. "And what is Durex? Is it some kind of pain medicine?"

"Well, the Durex is meant to protect you from all kinds of nasty diseases like the clap or your girl getting visits from the stork," Raoul purred back as he thanked the cashier and paid for the goods. "And KY just helps makes the fun times go more smoothly."

"I still don't understand," she said softly, following him to a bench so he could put everything into the backpack. While he was occupied, she took the box of Durex to look at it then gave Raoul a dirty look. "…condoms?"

"What?" Raoul replied, gently taking the box away to put it in the backpack. "I ain't planning nothing, so don't worry, honey. I just like being prepared, that's all."

"And what could you possibly be preparing for with this many condoms?"

Raoul laughed and shrugged. "Well, you might change your mind…"

"I am just helping you pick out some new clothes," Vester huffed, trying but failing to sound offended as she took hold of his sleeve, gently pulling him behind her. "Now, come along and behave yourself."

"Yes, darling…" Raoul giggled, letting her drag him towards one of those fancy, fly-by-night boutiques that would appear and disappear every few months designed for the people who just had to keep up with the cutting edge of fashion. But as Vester lead him around and picked out things for him to try out, Raoul grudgingly was impressed by how well made their stuff was. He even warmed up to that Lost Boys' vampire cowboy style Vester had been slowly been dressing him up in as they went around the stores, despite a few token complaints to the contrary. It didn't hurt that she seemed to have a talent for finding the really good stuff at cheap prices.

"You don't have to be so… what's the word? Frugal about things," Vester muttered when she noticed how Raoul erred on the more restrained side with his choice. "You can be a bit more daring, you know?"

"It ain't a good idea to be too flashy," replied Raoul, double checking that his ass still looked good in the jeans he was trying on.

"Why not?" she said, sneaking a peek at his backside too. "Nothing wrong with being a bit flashy as a man. I mean, just look at the peacock!"

Raoul laughed, shaking his head. "Honey, the only peacocks in the 'hood that ain't flaming fags are old school pimps or the preachers."

"Preachers?"

"Yeah… See, they're working rooms like the queens do. Got to make sure they can be seen by the back rows."

"How dare you!" huffed Vester in a deathly serious tone. "I cannot believe you have to gall to compare drag queens to ministers like that…"

Raoul frowned at her, shocked and hurt. "Jesus… Sorry…"

"You should be! Every cabaret performer I've known has far more moral integrity and compassion than any self-proclaimed 'good Christian'!"

Raoul stared at her in silence, then broke down laughed again. "Oh honey… What you doing hanging around ballrooms?"

"It's my job," she said with a bashful huff. "See, I'm a deejay and I get hired for a lot of events like that."

"So, you work at a lot of gay bars?"

"Gay bars… Oh! Ja!" She smiled brightly. "But that's because the scene is made up of the 'weird, artsy' people, so I end up working a lot of underground and punk clubs, too."

"And forgive me for assuming too much here, but I guess most of the men you end up hanging around either aren't into women or ain't too picky about what somebody's got in their jeans as long as they can get in them, right?"

"Ja…" she replied, nose crinkling adorably as she thought over what he was saying.

"But you're brother hates leaving you alone with men, right?"

"We ought to see about getting you some shoes," Vester said hurriedly, the expression on her face suddenly filled with nervous fear. "Maybe some sneakers, like Adidas or Nike…"

"Honey, I ain't breaking the bank on no Adidas," Raoul said gently with a smile that he hoped would calm her. "I mean, a man in my current position has to save his money."

"I'll buy them for you!" she gasped suddenly, then added in a meek voice, "I mean, I don't mind. Just think of it as a gift. From a friend…"

"That's very sweet of you, honey," replied Raoul. "But I'm the old fashioned type who believes it ain't right for a gentleman to make a lady pay for anything on a first date…"

Vester started to argue, but was quickly hushed when Raoul kissed her cheek. She stood there dumbfounded a moment with a dazed smile, then turned away with a little pout. "You are a horrible and stubborn man…"

Raoul just rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah… Hey! You want to get a bite to eat after this? I'm starving."

"All right. But I'm buying, okay?"

"Yes, dear…" chuckled Raoul as he went back into the dressing room.

They wandered the mall some more after eating nearly everything the food court had to offer… which Raoul had made sure to pay for despite Vester's protests. As they shopped, Raoul was pleased to see Vester had finally warmed up to him, revealing herself to be very perky and friendly despite the spooky girl look. The longer they hung around talking together, the happier she made Raoul feel. And the little glare she gave the manager of the Chess King made it almost worth the embarrassment of having the guy rudely demand that he leave his backpack and bags at the register under the (not at all) watchful gaze of the cashier, despite all the 'nice' white kids coming in and out with just as many bags. But he was still taken off-guard to find that she had gotten bold enough to sneakily pop into the dressing room with him.

"Whoa!" he gasped, grinning when saw her standing there after he'd taken off his shirt. "What you think you're doing, honey?"

"I need to do something for you," Vester explained, doing her best not to stare. "It's… it won't take more than a moment."

"Really?" he said with a chuckle. "Honey, I'd love a quickie, but I ain't got a rubber on me…"

"Huh? Oh! Oh no! This is what you think! See, there's something I need to show you…" Vester held up her arms and crossed them, causing a set of golden bracelets to appear on her wrists. She leaned in a bit to let Raoul get a better look at them, revealing they had a tiny Decepticon insignia on them. "These are Master-braces. They link you to your armor, the Master Suit, and your transtector. You use them like this."

She tapped them together and, in a small flicker of light, suddenly was in robotic armor with a bird-shaped helmet. "See? If you can get on the comm-lines now, that means your braces are activated""."

Raoul stared at her. "Hold up. You telling me that I got a super suit?!"

"Ja!" she said with a cheerful nod. "Just try it out."

"Okay…" Carefully, Raoul did the same motions Vester had done. As soon as he'd crossed his wrist, a set of braces appeared flashed onto his wrist with a shock as if his flesh was being stabbed with millions of tiny, red-hot needles. Fighting off the pain, he tapped the braces together and suddenly felt the needles go all across his body as he was encased in cold metal plates. Raoul waited till the agonizing sensation dulled to an unpleasant throb before taking a look in the mirror.

What stared back at him was a robotic devil colored in flat dark grays and matte black like it'd just walked out of a black and white movie. The only shine was on the front of it's helm, a solid black mirror where the top half of his face should have been. The lower half looked like a heavily stylized skeleton smile with lots and lots of sharp teeth.

"That was Firefly's idea," grumbled Vester. "He and Herr Radar thought it would be for the best if they made you look like a monster."

"And let me guess," Raoul hummed, noticed that his voice sounded just as spooky and distorted as it did when he was Hellrider. "Herr Radar is Soundwave, right?"

"Ja…"

Raoul let out a little huff, flexing his fingers to see that he still had claws but now there were fine looking wires in them that he immediately recognized made them scaled down but ruggedized finger-needles. He studied them thoughtfully for a second, then turned to Vester. "Hey, do we got access to unspace pockets?"

"I think so," said Vester. "I mean, we've got to put our clothing and things somewhere while suited up."

Raoul shifted out of his armor and grinned, checking the HUD menu to see how much room he had in subspace. His grin grew wider when he saw that it would be more than enough for his purposes. "Say, you mind giving your opinion on how these look on me?"

"Gladly!" she chirped, happily letting him put on a little show for her while she gave him her honest opinions on what she thought worked the best on him. It was only when he started taking the tags and security buttons off the ones she'd liked the best that Vester frowned at him. "Wait a moment… What are you doing?"

"Taking a little five-fingered discount," he chuckled, subspacing the freshly folded clothes quickly. "And I think we might be going to Kinney's next so your boy can get some nice new Converse…"

"You don't need to do this," she grumbled quietly.

"Honey, that guy's been asking for it for years," Raoul replied, taking advantage of the little trash can someone had put in to clean up so the cashier didn't have to. "He's a raging asshole to anybody who's not a lily white rich boy, so I think it's only fair. And he treats his employees like dogshit. Besides, as much as I like the style, Chess King has always been too over-priced for what they sell…"

"It's still not right…"

Raoul sighed, taking the last shirt he liked and draping it over his arm. "Okay… I'll buy this one, if it'll make you feel better."

"…very well," she huffed. "But I expect you to behave, okay?"

"Anything for you, honey," he said, kissing her cheek again as they stepped out of the dressing room.

Once they'd gotten away from the Chess King and it's manager, who'd all but threatened to strip search them only to give up when he realized there was no possible way they could have stolen anything as far as he knew, Raoul lead the way to a secluded spot out of the sight of the crowd. When he was sure nobody was watching too closely, Raoul began putting more of his haul into the subspace.

"Why do you keep doing that?" asked Vester.

"This?" he murmured, packing a weekend's worth of clothes into the backpack for ease of access. "Well, I don't want to be hauling around a bunch of shopping bags while looking for a place to crash for the night."

"Huh? I thought you were living at one of the Ritz-Carlton flats?"

"Yeah… I was but…" Raoul shrugged the backpack over one shoulder as he sighed sadly as they headed into the Steinbach's. "But my old lady kicked me to curb this morning, so I ain't living in a fancy penthouse no more."

"Really?" Vester asked in shy but oddly hopeful tone.

"Well, Tracks didn't exactly say I had to hit the bricks, but I can take a hint…" He smiled sadly at Vester. "You wouldn't happen to know anybody willing to rent a place or hiring, would you?"

"You can stay with me!" she chirped, then blushed and shyly added, "I mean, you can stay with us. Giga and Mega would be more than happy to let you live at the safe house. And you're one us now, so…"

"No, I ain't."

"But the Autobots have abandoned you," said Vester in a barely audible whisper as they wandered into the perfume department. "And Tracks already turned his back on you, so—"

"You know," Raoul said with a sharp brightness, taking a little strip of paper out of a holder. "I've always wondered what the deal was with these things. What are they meant for?"

"Those? Uh, you used them to test the perfume on first," Vester replied, taken off-guard by the change of subject.

"You can just spray them on your wrist."

"Well, yes. It is best to see how they smell on your skin. But if you're trying out a lot of scents, it'll just get really gross and hard to compare them all. So you spritz the ones you want on the paper, wave it a little to dry it down, then smell and see if you like it."

"You mean like this?" said Raoul, picking out a random tester of high end cologne and doing as Vester told him to. Just one whiff, though, and he was instantly hit by that familiar bathroom scent but without the notes of new car mixed in. He stared at the sleek white bottle in shock. "…holy shit. I know this smell…"

"Really?" asked Vester.

"Yeah… I… I hate to admit it, but I really like this," he grumbled.

Grinning, Vester quickly found an unopened box and held it up to him. "So you like Kouros, right?"

"Yeah…" Raoul replied awkwardly, a bit frightened by the way she was looking so intently at him. "But the reason is because it reminds me of…"

"Me?" grumbled Tracks, clamping a possessive arm around Raoul's shoulder. "Well, I'm flattered. Now, if you don't mind, I need to talk with Raoul about the dangers of running off with strange little… ahem!-girls."

"And just who do you think you are?" huffed Vester, pressing up against Raoul to stealthily slip both the cologne along with the Reflector into the pocket of the backpack.

"His legal guardian," Tracks huffed back, subtly but firmly pulling Raoul away from her. "Now, say good bye, Raoul."

"I'll see you later," Raoul said with a grin as he pulled out a pen. "But first, can I get your number honey?"

Vester started to speak, but Tracks cut her off sharply. "No. He doesn't need anymore numbers. Especially not yours. Now, good day."

With that, Tracks discretely marched Raoul away. He barely had a chance to see Vester get herded in the opposite direction by a limping Asian man sharply dressed in all white with a black eye and busted lip. They walked a few blocks in silence, with Tracks pointedly staying between Raoul and the curbside while keeping an arm around the boy's shoulders so he had to stay very close beside him.

"What was that all about?" rasped the boy, glaring at Tracks as they headed down a side street.

"What was what about?" he replied stiffly.

"You being a bitch yet again to a little cutie I happen to be interested in…" Raoul said coldly. "You fucking just told me to got myself a nice human girl, but the minute I do so… WHAM! You get jealous and run her off! Just what the fuck is your problem?"

"First off, I am not a jealous, man" huffed Tracks in that snobby tone he'd take whenever he wanted to shut down an argument. "But I sincerely doubt that it would end well for you to just jump into bed with the first person you meet. I mean, you can do better than that little cu—…"

"Cunt?" Raoul finished with a nasty laugh. "You seriously calling Vester a cunt? You got a lot of fucking nerve, saying that shit…"

"You can do better," Tracks said again, his voice and expression going flat. The facade immediately cracked as he added with a bitter snarl, "And why are you defending their good name? You know nothing about them."

"I know she ain't jealous, bitchy old queen who can't make up his fucking mind…" hissed Raoul, angry at himself for getting a bit turned on Tracks' suddenly display of emotion. "For real, what the fuck is your deal?"

Tracks let out an angry growl, his jaw twitching as he ground his teeth. "We are not having this discussion right now. I will talk to you later…"

"No," snapped Raoul, stopping right in front of him. "No. We're talking about this shit right now."

"In the middle of the street?" hissed Tracks. "With all these people watching?!"

"Why not?!" he hissed back. "Welcome to New York, big guy! This is just another day in the city! Best entertainment you can get without cable! Now, tell me what the fuck is your deal?"

Tracks growled again, forcing his voice to stay level as he grabbed Raoul's arm and pulled him along behind. "I will not do this right now. We will talk later. Now, quit arguing with me."

"Later, later, later…" Raoul sneered, jerking his arm away as they came up to where Tracks was parked. "It's always later with you! You just keep me hanging on, jerking my chain like I'm some kind of fucked up yo-yo! Why the hell can't you just give me a straight fucking answer Tracks?!"

"Today is not the day for this nonsense," Tracks growled, then he caught sight of the hunky boy hooking him up to a bright yellow tow truck. "HUBCAP?! [What in the Pit do you think you are doing?!]"

"[Just following orders, sir]" Hubcap replied sheepishly.

"[And just whose orders would those be?]"

"[Mine.]" said a portly old bear of a paramedic as he climbed out of the ambulance parked beside the tow truck. "[You're late, Tracks. I warned you.]"

Tracks just laughed him off with a pompous wave of his hand. "[Excuse me, Ratchet, but Raoul's safety and well-being are a thousand times more important than a silly little check up! Now, if you don't mind, I would like to get him back home and see that he's in the care of a few somewhat responsible adults before the Decepticons try luring him away with the temptations of yet another little…]"

"['I am not jealous man', my ass!]" huffed Raoul as he went over to Tracks' car form and leaned against the driver's side door, trying to ignore the sudden pain shooting up his bad leg.

Hubcap stared at him in shock. "[Okay. Who's teaching the monkeys how to speak Cybertronian?!]"

"[Listen here, boy!]" Tracks barked before Raoul could respond, getting right up in the guy's face. "[I will not have you talk that way to Raoul! He is a human being, not some kind of zoo animal, and I will have you treat him with proper respect. And why are you even here? I thought you'd be helping Blaster out in the communications room.]"

"[Well, I got an updated Earth alt mode]" said Hubcap with a frown. "[And since I can tow now, Ratchet dragged me along to find your ass when you missed your appointment.]"

"[I can make it under my own power, thank you very much]" Tracks growled, shooting Ratchet a very angry glare.

"[What's that?]" huffed Ratchet, clearly done with Tracks' bullshit. "[Did you just say want me to remotely lock your drivetrain?]"

"[I can do that real easy with this]" Raoul said, holding up his switchblade. "[It's ain't too hard. You just tell me were to take him and I'll drive Tracks there.]"

Ratchet gave Tracks a truly frightening glare that would have made Kubrick proud. "[You still haven't gotten that node short fixed?]"

Tracks sighed, rubbing his temples like he had a sudden headache. "[It's really not an issue. And I do have a right to decline treatment…]"

"[No]" snapped Ratchet. "[From what Blades and First Aid have told me, you wait till Hoist and I are busy, then go to one of them and say that the other one's already done everything. And, up until we got Arcee and Swoop trained, we've been too shorthanded to check and see that you haven't had more than basic maintenance since we left Cybertron!]"

"[I haven't needed anything more done because I am in perfect health!]"

"[Oh really, big guy?]" huffed Raoul as he opened Tracks' door, took out Tandy and slipped up under his steering column with a wince. "Hey sweetie? You wouldn't happen to have a diagnostic suite on you, would you?"

"…well, I do," Tandy answered hesitantly. "But I'm not sure you should…"

"Oh no, I should! I really, really, really should!" Raoul replied, hooking her up and as he pulled up the program.

"[This is completely uncalled for, Raoul!]" huffed Tracks in a fatherly voice of annoyance. Then his brow furrowed suddenly as a thought hit him. "[Wait a minute… I don't recall Tandy having anything like that installed when I gave her to you.]"

Raoul just shrugged, watching the data coming up onscreen with mounting concern. "[I guess it was in that pack of stuff Sideswipe sent me.]"

Now Ratchet was frowning at him as he came to look over Raoul's shoulder. "[That boy is the last person in the known universe to have that kind of thing on hand. So when did you get this? And who gave it to you?]"

"[It was me! I did it!]" laughed Brainstorm over what Raoul guessed was the Autobots' communal comm-line. Then he added in a less deranged voice, "[I installed a few things on Tandy last night. I mean, the boy's a medic and he's been doing the lion's share of Tracks' maintenance since they met anyway. Might as well let him get some more 'real' world experience. And I already got Magnus's permission.]"

"[And you didn't even bother clearing this with me first?]" Ratchet snarled over the line.

"[Why? I mean, you've been complaining about needing more medics…]"

"[Why? Because I'm the Chief Medical Officer and Commander of the Autobot Medical Corps and I think I should have a say in the matter before you start press-ganging random human children into service.]"

Raoul was about to jump on the line and say something when he got a prompt for a private and heavily secured line. As Ratchet chewed Brainstorm a new asshole, he cautiously opened the line.

"[Look, mate]" said Viewfinder in a soft whisper. "[Don't let them know you got Master-braces.]"

"[Why not?]" he asked, carefully making sure he didn't accidentally send it to the communal line while keeping his expression calm despite the unfolding mess he was looking at.

"[You're already treading on thin ice with Ultra Magnus over having that nanovirus and knowing how to talk our language. He'll likely have you strapped to an operating table so Hi-Q can rip the whole lot out if he found out what you've got. Just keep your mouth shut, okay?]"

"[Actually, no. He wouldn't] grumbled a voice that sounded like Thundercracker but snobbier and a thousandfold gayer. "[Magnus would likely have Brainstorm and Arcana vivisect you because Hi-Q is a fucking pussy and would refuse to because it's 'immoral' and 'wrong' to cut up kids…]"

"[And who the fuck is this?]" Raoul asked over the private line as he listened to Ratchet's very creative cursing as they watched the read-outs. "[Skywarp? This is Skywarp, right?]"

"[You have the honor of speaking to Starscream, human]" he replied sharply.

Raoul fought hard not to show how shocked he was. "[For real?! I thought you sounded like a goddamn chain-smoking squeaky toy!]"

"[That's because he's into getting choked out…]" chuckled Spyglass.

"[Listen here, you little fuckers! I am currently having Soundwave tear me a brand-new exhaust port because your idiot brother fucked two of his demonic abortions! So I don't want to hear it!]"

Suddenly, Soundwave's creepy laugh came up on the line. "[Clarification: Would use violence to demonstrate displeasure at disrespect displayed, but Spyglass is correct. Starscream would enjoys it.]"

"[All right! So I like it rough… just not from you,]" Starscream hissed. "[But I think we'll spare Hellrider our arguing over who Lord Megatron likes best. He has more important matters to—]"

Then the line suddenly cut out, leaving just a hollow ringing in Raoul's ears despite the Autobots chattering on the other line. Raoul wasn't sure if Soundwave or Starscream did it, but he decided not to dwell on it or the idea that both of them were apparently sleeping with the boss. Instead, he focused on the read-out as the last of the data complied.
"Tell me," Ratchet asked, slipping into English as they saw the results. "As a new medic, what would you say needs to be done here?"

Raoul stared at the read-out for a long moment, then said quietly, "Depends. You got a CR chamber nearby?"

"Yes…" replied Ratchet. "But unfortunately, it wasn't properly maintained. Good news, Wheeljack's bringing the parts to fix it. Bad news, he apparently got delayed because of Red's bullshit, so it's likely he won't get here till tomorrow evening. And that's being optimistic…"

"Which means I have plenty of time to take Raoul back home," huffed Tracks, coming over to attempt to shoo them off.

Raoul looked him dead in the eyes. "You ain't driving no where like this. [Hey Hubcap? You need a hand hooking him up?]"

"I cannot believe this!" grumbled Tracks, turning to Ratchet. "Can you please explain to the boy that I am perfectly fine!"

"You heard the boy," Ratchet growled. "[Get Tracks up on the flatbed and follow me back to base.]"

"[You just said the CR chamber isn't working…]" Tracked muttered.

"[All that means is I'm going to have to work on you manually]" came the gruff reply. "[Which means I have to prop up your lasercore then get out the tiny welders and a magnifier to start closing up the really bad fractures while we're waiting…]"

"[I can do them]" Raoul said, unhooking Tandy and putting her back in his pocket. "[I know how to weld. And it'd be easier for me to get around in there with a human-scale welding tank than having to start yanking things around.]"

Ratchet frowned thoughtfully. "[Well, Hi-Q has PPE scaled for your size…]"

"[Seriously?!]" Tracks rasped, breaking off from glaring daggers at Hubcap to turn an angry look on Ratchet. "[What happened to not press-ganging children into service?!]"

"[I volunteered]" Raoul corrected, pulling Tracks along as he went to the passenger side of Hubcap's cab. "[And I couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least try to help you. This isn't good, Tracks. Now quit bitching and let's get you fixed, okay big guy?]"

"[Very well]" grumbled Tracks as he chivalrous took the pack from the boy and held out a hand to help him up into the seat. Scooting in beside Raoul, he buckled up and dutifully reached over to make sure the boy could get his on too. "But I am only doing this to put your mind at rest."

"[And there's the fear of Ratchet]" Hubcap muttered as he popped into the driver's side and followed Ratchet out onto the road.

"[I am not afraid of him, thank you very much.]"

"[I had Tandy send copies of those read-outs to both your spouses, Tracks…]" Ratchet said over the line.

"[Was the really necessary?]" replied Tracks, sounding suddenly very tired. "[I understand you're upset, but there's no need to get Blaster and Jazz upset too.]"

"[You all are in a conjux trine]" muttered Ratchet. "[And you've got serious damage to your lasercore, which means that there's a potential to cause something like an irregular pulse burst or abnormal feedback loops in all three of you.]"

Tracks sighed. "[I am fully aware of this, but I'd rather tell them myself.]"

"[What I am doing my due diligence as a medic. I want to make sure they've been fully informed of what is going on and to keep them abreast of the situation. You do have a history of not telling them the whole truth to 'spare their feelings' and 'keep them from worrying', so I think it's best if I told them exactly what is going on. Given the treatment that likely will be required, I need to be sure they are prepared for worst case scenarios.]"

"[I fail to see why you have to explain that to me…]"

"[Because I'm not talking to you, Tracks. I'm talking to Raoul…]"

"What?!" Tracks gasped aloud, looking over at the boy.

"[He's been listening in since Brainstorm hopped on the line]" replied Hubcap, before adding out loud with a painfully Midwestern accent, "But I think it's kind of weird this human hasn't had much to say. Chip's been talking everybody's ears off since his came online and the other two young ones are almost as chatty over the CB."

"I can't," Raoul said quickly. "My audio is messed up. I can only use text or text-to-speech. Which is slow as fuck."

Hubcap grinned at him. "Well, I could fix that for you after you get done dealing with him."

"And why would I do that?" asked Raoul in a sarcastic little purr. "I don't know you. So what you getting out of it?"

"Well, you are kind of cute and I am curious if Eject's right about these things being functional…"

"For the sake your health, I suggest you keep your eyes on the road and remember that Raoul is a minor," hissed Tracks, none too subtly slipping an arm around the boy's waist to pull him away from Hubcap.

"For real?" Raoul laughed in a grim way, smiling like a skull. "You literally just dumped me this morning! Who the hell do you think you are?!"

"Your legal guardian." Removing his arm, Tracks turned his attention to the backpack. As he started inspecting the contents, he said in an exhausted tone, "And I did not 'dump' you. That implies we were in a romantic or sexual relationship, which we were not nor have we ever been. All I did was tell you that you need to pursue such emotional fulfillment with a fellow human."

"And I was trying to," Raoul growled, covering how nervous he was getting over Tracks' digging around with mounting anger. "But here you are again, being a jealous bitch! And what you looking for, any way? All that shit's been paid for!"

"I was just noticing that you have new clothes…"

"So? You were just saying this morning I need new ones!"

"But a new toothbrush? A nice razor? And shampoo?" he asked, holding up the Prell tube. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were running away…"

Raoul glared at him. "Well, maybe that's because you dumped me…"

"I just told you, that's not what I said!" Tracks replied, glaring back. "All I told you was that you needed to date a human your own age and quit chasing after horrible old men like me!"

"[Hold the fuck up!]" chirped Hubcap in shock. "[Did you just admit to be a horrible old man?]"

"[You stay out of this]" snapped Tracks, then went back to Raoul. "What I'm saying is that at no point in our previous conversation did I say I wanted you out of my life or that I was kicking you out of your home."

"But it ain't my place, now is it?" Raoul said sharply. "I mean, you're the one who's been paying the bills and got that place to begin with. Maybe I ain't cool with being your fucking house-pet anymore!"

"You have never been a house-pet!" Tracks said back, his voice cracking in pain. "I love you to death, Raoul…"

"Then why—?"

"Because it won't work," said Tracks sadly, cutting Raoul off. "You and I have such drastically different lifespans, we're completely incompatible species, you're a minor and I am not only an adult but an adult who is in a position of authority over you… There's literally thousands reasons why, no matter how I might personally feel, that things can never be anything more than a friendship between us. So will you please listen to reason for once? Please, Raoul?"

There was a short silence, then Hubcap laughed sarcastically. "[Damn… This sounds like your bullshit with Jazz all over again…]"

"[Jazz was an adult when we first met, thank you very much!]" snapped Tracks. "[And this is nothing at all like that! Now, stay out of this!]"

Raoul grinned nastily. "[Oh no-no-no! I want hear more about this.]"

"[It's actually a funny story]" huffed Tracks, going back to being his old snobby self before Hubcap could talk. "[Jazz developed what you would call a 'crush' on me after a rescue mission and things began to… uh, to get personal between us, but I was hesitant to reciprocate because I didn't know at the time how Blaster felt about having an open relationship. I only learned he was completely fine with the idea after I came back to our bunk to find Jazz tied up with a little bow on his… Well, you can imagine…]"

"[…for real?]" Raoul asked, then his brow furrowed. "Hold up… Why the fuck was Jazz ready for action if…?"

"Blaster's an empath and there's also a significant amount of emotional spillage over our bond," said Tracks in a slightly embarrassed tone. "So he was well aware of how I felt about the matter and was very keen on the idea of having a boyfriend we could share…"

"And that lead to you three getting married?"

"Yes… eventually."

"Which was hilarious because everybody thought Jazz was dating Prowl at the time," Hubcap added with a smirk. "And if you think Tracks is a jealous, evil bitch…"

"I will again remind you to keep your eyes on the round and your mouth shut," said Tracks, closing the main compartment of the backpack and moving to open the front pocket.

"Look, I won't run off, okay?" growled Raoul, trying to pull the backpack away from him. "I'll go back home, if it will make you happy."

"I care more about what will make you happy," Tracks said back, getting in a little tug-of-war with the boy that ended with the packet of Durex somehow getting launched from the pocket and landing on Tracks' lap. He picked it up, staring at the box in puzzlement that turned to a frigid glare when he realized what they were. "Well… I suppose I should be glad you at least are staying safe…"

Grabbing them out of his hand as he jerked the backpack away, Raoul defensively shot back, "Well, I wouldn't need them if somebody would stop being an indecisive bitch…"

"I am not being an indecisive anything!" snapped Tracks with a shocking amount of anger. "You're just being childish and clingy yet again. I have told that this would never work, but you insist upon being willfully oblivious to reality. So I am going to be blunt: quit this nonsense over a silly infatuation and grew the fuck up Raoul! [What?]"

"[Nothing…]" Hubcap said, clearly shocked at the outburst. [But I think you might be a bit…]

"[Keep your mind on the road and stay out of this.]"

Raoul just sat there stiffly and clutching backpack tightly as they rode the rest of the way to the Autobot's safe house in silence. There was a small group waiting on them when they pulled in. Raoul immediately recognized Bumblebee and Spike standing off to the side with Arcee, out of the way of a robot with flashing head-fins that who was talking to a gigantic white jet-type robot and another only slightly shorter gray jet wheeling in stack of crates.

"Jack!" cheered Ratchet, transforming and hugging the head-fin guy as he happily kissed him on the faceplate. "[I thought you said you'd be late.]"

"[Skyfire gave us a lift]" said Jack, putting down the futuristic beer keg he'd be carrying and pointing at the giant guy. "[Met us in Montana this morning and we just got in. Big guy's a miracle worker!]"

"[It's not that big a deal]" muttered Skyfire in a distinctly Nebulan accent. Then he crouched down on all fours as soon as Raoul got out of Hubcap to get a look at him. "Oh! You're an unusually tall human, aren't you?"

"Uh… yeah… Hi," said Raoul, ducking away as Skyfire reached out a massive finger to curiously poke him.

"[Sky, honey… No!]" gasped the gray jet as he gently tugged on Skyfire's wing. He gave Raoul a weak smile and said in extremely proper English, "Please ignore him. He's not… uh… [What's an English word for not being good with people, Wheeljack?]"

"Feral," huffed Tracks, finally freed and disengaging his holo as he transformed just to properly glare at the two jets. "[The word you're looking for, Silverbolt, is] feral."

Silverbolt pouted his surprisingly lush lips into a frown. "[That's not at all nice, sir.]"

"[I'm just trying to put the new human at ease]" Skyfire said calmly, getting back up to stare down Tracks. "[And I think the boy was saying we just haven't had much experience with the humans.]"
"[I wonder why…]" Tracks grumbled dryly.

Skyfire let out a sigh. "[Look, man. None of you all really let me or Aerialbots around humans unless there's somebody to 'supervise' the interaction. Actually, the only combiner team I think gets any time alone with humans are the Protectobots. I mean, you old-timers even trust Blades to be alone with them, but if it were, say, Fireflight…]"

Tracks laughed suddenly, a strangely hysteric edge to his tone. "[It'll be a cold day in the smelting Pit before I'd leave anyone alone with that boy! He'd probably forget they're in the cockpit and kill them pulling some stupid stunt!]"

Skyfire looked like he was about to argue, then said quietly, "[All right… That was a bad example…]"

"[Well, I think it's perfect!]" huffed Silverbolt. "[Maybe if you old farts quit gatekeeping every single interaction with the humans, the rest of us might learn how to interact with them properly. I mean, sure, Flight's a bit… uh, ditzy, but even he gets that humans are more fragile than we are! You assholes just like treating us like irresponsible children!]"

"[Because you are irresponsible children!]" said Tracks sharply.

"[Oh, that's it…]" Silverbolt growled as he and Tracks fell into bickering about whether or not he and his siblings were raised in what Raoul guessed was the Cybertronian equivalent of a barn.

"Just ignore them," Spike said, coming over to pull him away from the show. "They get into this every single time they see each."

"Didn't know Tracks had beef with Silverbolt…" said Raoul, his voice quiet and politely empty of emotion.
"Oh! You already met him?"

"No. Tracks said his name was [Silverbolt, so I guess that's his Earth name too."

Spike stared at him in dull surprise. "What the hell did just say?"

"That Silverbolt's name is the same in English and Cybertronian?"

"No, the bit before that. The part that sounded like you were gargling a synthesizer."

"Uh, that was his name," said Raoul with a shrug. "It's [Silverbolt] in Cybertronian."

"Oh no…" Spike sighed. "You can do it, too?"

"Ha!" barked the voice of Chip as he rolled up to them in a wheelchair followed by a queasy looking blonde girl. "Told you it wasn't just me!"

"You okay?" asked Raoul as he looked at the blonde girl, catching an odd odor off her.

"Yeah, just got a bit airsick," she grumbled, going over to Spike and laying her head on his shoulder.

"You've been puking for over a week," Chip said with annoyance.

"Yeah…" said Spike. "I told you that you didn't need to come with us. You need rest, sweetie."

"You been missing any periods?" Raoul asked bluntly, glad for a distraction.

She glared at him. "That's not any of your business, eh… What's your name?"

"This is Raoul," said Spike. "Raoul, this is Carly Chase. My fiancee."

"And my older sister," Chip added with a roll of his eyes.

"Fiancee, eh?" Raoul said thoughtfully. "Well, sorry about the rude question and congratulations! Hopefully the wedding's really, really soon…"

"I already went to the doctor and got that checked," Carly replied in a flat tone. "And I'm not pregnant. But since you asked, I happen to be on my period right now. And it's a nightmare. Found out I've got a uterine fibroid the size of a golf-ball in me and it likes to make me suffer every month."

Raoul frown in sympathy. "Oh honey… You getting that removed?"

"They said it was benign, so they didn't feel it was necessary because I'm still 'too young' for something like a hysterectomy."

"Going to be a nightmare if you want kids…"

"Yeah, we know," said Carly and Spike in unison.

"And you didn't have to come with us," Spike said again.

"Oh no," she countered. "No, I came along because the last time I left you and my dingus step-brother alone together, you two wound up in jail and Bee was in the impound yard!"

Raoul raised an eyebrow. "Okay, I need to hear how the hell that happened."

"It's a funny story," said Spike with a grumpy laugh as they all moved a bit closer to wall to let the Autobots go about their business. "It began with my baby brother Buster dating this girl who was getting hassled by this real creep because she kept refusing to go out with him. Which is understandable, since Harper is an absolute psycho who did things like follow her around constantly, poisoned one of her cats, and plastered her number 'for a good time' on every bathroom stall in town. So Buster, being the chivalrous idiot he is, decided to very loudly and very publicly call the guy out for it when Harper choose to start hassling them while they were out on a date. And Buster wound up in the ER because Harper had a knife, but thankfully it was just a few cuts because the guy was so drunk he could hardly stand. But despite all the evidence that showed Harper started the fight and threatened to murder my brother, the sheriff couldn't do shit…"

"Hold up," Raoul said softly. "You telling me your brother also got knifed and the cops didn't do shit? That don't sound right… I'm assuming everybody involved in this is white, right?"

"Yeah. The black and Asian kids keep far away from Harper and his racist buddies."

Carly let out a nasty laugh. "Speaking of racist pricks, almost every member of the Rochester family is one. Harper's daddy is chairman of the city council and mommy's the daughter of very rich family, and they disowned his older brother for dating a Chinese girl he met in grad school. Bradley now works as a civil engineer for the state and is happily married to that girl with a kid on the way…," she explained in a dry tone. "While Harper is a twenty-seven year old loser who dropped out in tenth grade and spends his time pissing his trust fund away on drugs, cheap women, and sports cars. He especially likes chasing high-school girls because they're usually stupid enough to fall for his crap. But I've heard Harper sleeps with anything that will let him… or gives him free blow. Which is definitely why he's screwing around with the local coke dealer despite the fact she's over fifty and resembles a half chewed piece of jerky from all the tanning she does."

"Said coke dealer is also the half-sister of Harper's grandfather on his mom's side," added Chip. "And his daddy's second cousin. And the sheriff's ex-wife, who left him and their kids for the nineteen year-old student she's been seeing since he was fifteen. See, she used to be our high school principal who took an early retirement due to 'personal issues'."

"Try not to think about it too hard," said Bumblebee as he carefully sat down next to them. "Apparently, the way Sparkplug explained it, there's three or four rich families in their town who rarely marry outside of their own class and social circle to keep the money 'in the family', so they now have family trees that are so ingrown they're basically just a rotted out stump."

"I never thought small towns were so fucked up…" Raoul mused, digesting the information he just heard. "I guess you got jailed because you beat the shit out that guy, right?"

"Oh no," Spike said calmly. "No. See, we're not stupid enough to go after Harper personally. Dad got in touch with a lawyer from one of the other families who hates Harper's and was more than happy to take the case pro bono over the incident. And, while they settled out of court real quick, it was kind of satisfying to watch Bobbie Jay Jr. shell out yet another painfully large pile of cash because of his precious boy's bullshit."

"Okay, but how did you end up in jail?" asked Raoul.

"Harper isn't just a creep… He's a vindictive creep," said Spike. "So, he got a couple of his buddies, got drunk, and thought it'd be 'funny' to dig up my mom's grave. Though, in defense of Bart and Will, they had no idea he was serious about it till they got to cemetery."

Raoul stared at him in shock. "They what?"

"Harper dug up my mom's grave." Spike repeated, his voice level but the anger clear in it. "He didn't make it more than a foot or two down because his buddies refused to help, but it's the principle of the thing. And the three of them did wreck mom's tombstone along with those of my uncle (her big brother), my aunt, and my cousin too."

Chip laughed dryly. "And that happened to be night Spike decided to show Bee his mom's grave because he'd just gotten a holoform generator…"

"Yeah, I can see why you got in a fight."

"It'd be generous to say there was a 'fight'…" said Spike.

"Yeah… I bet," said Raoul as he glanced over to Bee.

"Oh no!" Bee replied. "I'm not allowed to hurt humans… but I do get a little wiggle room in terms of protecting others and self-defense. See, Harper pulled out a knife…"

"And I'm the guy who brings a gun to a knife fight," Chip said.

"For real?" asked Raoul. "I'd have thought Spike would be the one packing heat…"

"Look at me," said Chip gesturing at his wheelchair. "I've been at a slight disadvantage in life since I was a baby. I'll happily take any chance to level the playing field, okay?"

"And we're from one of those backwoods parts of Washington where everybody and their granny has at least one gun. Because, bears and moose," Carly added.

Raoul hummed thoughtfully. "All right, let me see if I got this: this guy desecrates your mom's family graves, tries to brawl with you and your buddies, one of who is in a fucking wheelchair… but you the one who end up in jail, not him?"

"According to the state trooper who responded first to the caretaker's call, I was using 'excessive force'," Chip replied coldly. "And Spike got a couple hits in with a shovel right when the guy pulled up…"

"And when the sheriff finally did show up, I was about to make Harper a meat Pez dispenser…" added Bee. "Which is how I got put in the impound yard, because they apparently have had to arrest robots so often that there's literally a dedicated garage to serve as a holding cell for anyone over ten feet. And that's also how I found out there's loads of neutrals hiding out on Earth."

Raoul nodded. "Okay, makes sense. But from my experience, the pigs normally side with nice white kids like you."

"Did you forget about Harper coming from a rich family?"

"…okay. Don't explain how the other two got off."

"They didn't, because Harper threw Bart and Will under the bus as soon as the state trooper got there by claiming it was all their idea. So they ended in jail with us," said Spike with a cold frown, then he smiled warmly. "But Harper got a surprise visit about a week later from my Cousin Norbert that ended with him going to a private clinic for a 'long, quiet rest' while in rehab and to treat a sudden onset of severe nyctophobia."

"Nick-toe-what?" Raoul asked.

"[Fear of the dark]" signed Snake-Eyes as he joined them.

Spike smiled and waved. "Hi, Norbert."

"Norbert?" Raoul blinked in surprise, turning to stare at Snake-Eyes. "You're real name's Norbert?"

Snake-Eyes nodded.

Raoul nodded back, noticing the ninja looked like he'd been in a fight. "…yeah… I'd be going by Snake-Eyes, too."

"[Okay!]" huffed Ratchet as the argument between Tracks and Silverbolt fizzled out. "[Tracks? You're coming with me to be prepped for "immersion while Jack, Arcee, and 'Bolt get the chamber back online.]"

Tracks let out a little growl. "[I really don't think…]"

"[Do. Not. Argue.]" Taking him by the arm, Ratchet dragged Tracks away towards where Raoul guessed the medbay was.

"You guys can come with us to watch, if you want," said Wheeljack in a cheerful tone as he looked to the humans, with an accent that Raoul wasn't sure was truly New York or just Jersey.

"[I cannot allow that]" Ultra Magnus' voice boomed as he and Prowl appeared from a backroom, revealing himself to be almost as massive a robot as Skyfire. "[You know the Accords. It is forbidden from—]"

"All right! That's it!" barked Wheeljack, cementing himself as a fellow New Yorker despite being an alien. "I've got a bone to pick with your ass about this! Do you realize that there's been amendments to your precious Accords concerning emergent societies, right?"

"[I am fully aware of them, but Earth isn't-]"

"But nothing! The defining features of an emergent society are the independent discovery and development of heavier than air flight, nuclear sciences, rocket technology, intercontinental communication, satellites, and travel to at least one object within their solar system. All of which humanity's already done! And, as per the Accords, they are therefore capable of understanding the ramifications of using technology even if it's above their current capabilities to create."

"[I fear you may be giving humanity far too much credit, Wheeljack]" Ultra Magnus replied grimly. "[And even if I were willing to let members of a species infamous for it's aggression and suicidal curiosity to observe repairing on a device that is vital to our health, I cannot in good conscious allow you to let a group of children to do so.]"

"I'm sorry, what?" asked a very polite voice as a bald-headed Nebulan man came over to the humans. His English was painfully formal and stilted, with an accent that seemed more British than Australian. "I was aware that these three are under the age of majority by A-mare-it-can standards, but Rah-ool is appears to be an adult."

"[He's not. Raoul is not yet even seventeen]" said Ultra Magnus flatly.

"[I'm more interested in why you all are even here, Bee…]" asked Prowl, keeping his tone professional but Raoul picked up that he was a bit shocked to see them. "[I knew Arcee was coming, but I thought I told you… I mean, you're were supposed to on duty at the main base until further notice. And why did you bring Chip with you?]"

"Because I needed an entire continent between myself and Red Alert. Or there would have been a murder," Bee answered, pointedly speaking English.

"[And there have been some… developments since the last time we talked," Chip said, wheeling closer to Prowl, who knelt down towards him.

"When did you learn our language?"

"About when I got these…" Crossing his arms and tapping his wrists with a wince, Chip revealed he had a pair of Master-braces as well.

While everyone was busy processing this reveal, Raoul took advantage of the commotion to slip into a human scale door and hurry down the hall.

"[Hey assholes]" he said to the Reflector over a secure private line. "[You wouldn't happen to know-?]"

"[Take a left at where the hallway intersects and keep going till you see the crash door with caution tape]" said Spyglass, helpfully popping a few guidelines on Raoul's HUD.

"[Are you daft?!]" Viewfinder barked. "[That's the emergency door.]

"[And this is an emergency]" said Raoul. "[I don't want to find out why Ultra Magnus is going to do if he sees I got Decepticon cuffs, okay?]"

"[There are alarms on those things!]"

"[Not this one]" Spyglass replied. "[It was recently disengaged and unlocked from the outside…]"

Viewfinder made a noise, clearly confused. "[Wait. Why would they…?]"

"'ello-'ello!" said a rather rodent-like Nebulan man who stepped out of the shadows to cut Raoul off just at turn. "What do you think you're doing, my fine fellow?"

"Needed a smoke," Raoul said quickly, pulling out the pack.

"Well, fancy that! So do I," hummed the ratty man in a very soft voice as he took a rather crumpled cigarette out from behind his ear. "I think you might like a bit of air as well, right pal?"

"…uh, yeah! Sure…"

Clamping a hand firmly on Raoul's shoulder, the soft-spoken man said, "Fantastic! Then how about we get out of here and take a little ride with a friend of mine…"

Tensing both from the sudden contact and at the sound of other's coming down the hall, Raoul let the ratty man quickly lead him out the compromised emergency exit and down a winding maze of back alleys and side streets before they reached relatively secluded dead-end. All that was there were garbage cans along with a surprisingly spotlessly clean maroon Porsche sitting front and center as if it was at an auto show.

"[Oh good]" droned the Porsche in an utterly miserable tone. "[You finally came back. I was starting to think you'd just abandoned me here, in the filth, to rust…]"

"[Hellrider, allow me to introduce you to Dead End]" said the ratty man. "[Say 'hello', Dead End.]"

"What did you call me?" Raoul asked, shifting the backpack to get ready in case he had to run as he slipped a hand in his pocket.

"[That's you're name, isn't it?]" asked the ratty man, smiling and holding out a hand. "[Oh, by the way, my name's Throttle.]"

"I asked how you know that name," hissed Raoul, flipping out his knife and holding it dangerously close to Throttle's throat.

Throttle just let out a little sigh, shifting into heavy armor that made him look like a miniature Cybertronian. "[Look love, this ain't the first time I've had a knife in my face. But you got better weapons now, right? You got those fancy bracers, don't you?]"

Raoul glared as he noticed the Decepticon insignia, putting the knife away. "Look, I don't want anything to do with you bastards."

"[But you're one of us bastards now]" said Throttle, reverting back to normal. "[Now, how about you get in Dead End and we go some place nicer to chat, eh my lovely?]"

"[Might I suggest you just give up and get it over with]" huffed Dead End. "[We have orders to bring you no matter how you feel about it. So it's pointless to argue… pointless to do anything, really…]"

Thinking a moment, Raoul suddenly smiled and went over to Dead End. "[All right. I'll come along quietly. But on one condition…]"

"[And what would that be, my pretty pretty?]"

"[I'm driving.]" Quickly climbing in driver's side, Raoul locked the doors and with a few deft motions, stabbed the knife in underneath Dead End's steering column.

The groan made by the Porsche was obscene that turned to a grumpy growl. "[OH HELLO! …you could at least buy me a drink first!]"

"[The wiring's different, love]" Throttle said politely as Dead End opened the passenger door to let him in. Buckling up and pulling Raoul's backpack into his lap, he smiled at the boy. "[But I admire the balls you have to think you can just hotwire a Transformer and make a run for it.]"

"Shit…" Raoul pulled the knife out and reluctantly put it away.

"[I can see why Tracks is so fond of you…]" huffed Dead End as he started up and pulled out of the alley.

Raoul said nothing and simply glared at the steering wheel.

"Look, it's really not so bad," Throttle said, idly rummaging through the backpack and studying the various things with a bemused interest. "I get it, my pretty pretty, all you've heard is how our lot's the Bad Guys. And… well, yeah… Most of us ain't exactly saints. But you ain't one either, Hellrider."

"Raoul."

"Eh?"

"My name is Raoul Alonzo," he said with a level voice as he buckled the seatbelt. "That's the name my mother gave me. It's the name on my birth certificate. And you will use that name, got it asshole?"

"…seriously? Quit fucking around, love."

"I'm not. My name is Raoul."

"So it really is 'Rah-Ool'?" asked Throttle, not hiding amused surprise.

"Yes."

Throttle looked thoughtful a moment, then said, "Well… I guess that's why you keep up the tough guy act, ain't it love?"

"What's that got to do with it?"

"It's funny your name is Rah-Ool, because that's also a Nebulan name. It's technically unisex, but leans more towards the feminine side…"

"[It's the equivalent of being name 'Shannon' or 'Robin' as an Earthling]" Viewfinder said over the comm-line.

"[And how do you little shits know that?]" asked Throttle, then he took the Reflector out of the backpack. "[Hey! Ain't you supposed to minding Buster?]"

"[He decided that we should watch after Hellrider instead]" the trio replied in unison.

"[And you can be a bit too handsy]" huffed a voice over the line that sound like an older, even more depressed Dead End.

"[You stay out of this]" huffed Throttle. "[By the way, this is Darkwing. He's part of a dual combiner with Dreadwind and I happen to be his Powermaster…]"

"[…unfortunately]" Darkwing droned with a soul-crushing sigh. "[I'd have rather stayed locked up and in a coma on Garrus-9, but Scorponok had different plans…]"

"[Sucks to be you]" Raoul replied, casually lighting up a cigarette and nearly getting strangled on the shoulder strap when Dead End came to an abrupt stop.

"[Put. That. Out. IMMEDIATELY!]"

"[What?]" asked Raoul, huffing out an angry plume of smoke at the dashboard. "[You one of those anti-smoking nazis?]"

"[No… But my interior is going to smell like it now!]" whined Dead End, cutting on the A/C and opening the windows to get the smoke out as fast as he could. "[I mean, isn't it awful enough I have to haul around creatures that are constantly shedding hair and skin? Must you make my already dreadful existence worse by leaving behind a film of tar and smoke too?]"

"[If it'll make you feel better]" said another dreary voice over the line. "[I'll get some of those odor eliminators from Windsweeper for you.]"

"[Oh will you love?] chuckled Dead End. "[Just for that, I promise next time we're alone, I'll bring along an endoscopic claw. I might even be able to get a mouth flower just for you, darling.]"

"[Really? Oh, you are such a treasure, Dead! I'm going to give you an easily long washing when we're all done!]"

Darkwing groaned in tired scorn. "[Must you two always act like this in public? It is so embarrassing…]"

"[I'm more freaked out that your brother's into getting brutally tortured]" Raoul said in shock. "[I mean, masochism is one thing but…]"

"[Dreadwind isn't my sibling. It is far, far worse than that]" muttered Darkwing. "[He's my husband.]"

"[And you're just cool with it?]"

"[Yes. Dead End is our boyfriend.]"

"And I happen to be Darkwing's head," grumbled Throttle. "Trust me, pretty pretty, you do not want know the details…"

"[How's it any worse than to what Hi-Test does?]" huffed Dreadwind. "[I've got an abnormally high pain tolerance. What's your excuse?]"

"We're here," said Throttle a bit too brightly as they pulled into an abandoned warehouse. He hopped out and went over to the driver's side, dragging Raoul out as he brought the boy over to the group of men and robots.

"[You're late, Throttle]" said a rather hunky but grim Nebulan in their native tongue.

"[A fine welcome!]" huffed Throttle. "[I'd have had him out sooner, but there were too many people about…]"

"[Just get your armor on. We're about to move out]" was all he said, shifting into armor that still made him look attractive. When he noticed Raoul hadn't complied, the hunk glared at him. "I said put your armor," he repeated in excessively precise English.

"¿Por que?" said Raoul, doing his best to sound stupid. In the politest, friendliest tone he added, "Mira, pendejo, solo quiero largarme de aquí. Así que puedes irte a la mierda, ¿de acuerdo?

"[I speak more than one Earth language, human]" came the reply in very old-fashioned Spanish. "[This is your final warning. Suit up and get moving.]"

"There's no need to be so harsh to the boy, Hi-Test," said Firefly, unarmored but fully in uniform with a set of his own Master Braces and looking only slightly less zombie-like. "This is his first time. You should be more gentle with him."

"Since he's one of your team, debrief Hellrider about the situation. Throttle and I are heading out to do recon." With that, Hi-Test marched off, taking an apologetic Throttle with him.

"Look, I just want to go home, okay?" Raoul gasped, subspacing the backpack to lighten his load and looking for an escape path. "Please. I don't want anything to do with this shit!"

Firefly just sighed with a shrug. "I'm afraid it's too late now. Once you have the Master Braces…"

"Then take them back!" Deploying the braces, Raoul tried desperately to pull them off before Firefly gently grabbed his wrist.

"You can't remove them," he said quietly. "Once they're on, they're there to stay."

"That's not quite true," Zartan said as he came out of the shadows holding a gun at Raoul. "You can be freed from them… once you're dead. So, let me ask you again, boy: You going to join in the fun or do I kill you right here?"

Raoul thought it over silently, then reluctantly shifted into his armor. "Fine. I'll go along. But I… I think it'd be best if I hung back. See, I'm trained in field medicine for humans and Nebulans as well as for robots, so it might be good if I didn't get too involved in the actual fighting."

Zartan considered this for several uncomfortable moments before lowering the gun. "Very well. That is a sensible idea. But don't think you can just bolt the first chance you get. I am very good at tracking prey, Raoul."

"Sure…" he replied, causing Zartan to give him an unnerving smirk before disappearing into the shadows again. He numbly accepted the medic pack Firefly handed him and put it into his subspace. He followed behind the other man, who'd shifted into rather generic armor, as they wove through the maze of Chinatown back alleys, Raoul racked his brain for any way to get out of this with his life. He was panicking but somehow was keeping his cool. In fact, as he and Firefly took positions in an alley for an ambush, Raoul realized a very disturbing thing: he was actually excited at the thought of fighting.

It was an all too familiar sensation of anticipation and tension. This was that special kind of horny, the kind that comes from scoring after months with just one's hand and a bad case of blue balls. And as Raoul tried to process these disgusting feelings, the cacophony of a massive street brawl reached them.

There wasn't any more time to think when the fight reached them. Raoul found himself joyfully leaping into the fray, laughing and dancing as he battered the Foot ninjas around. As much as he craved to slice his claws deep into their flesh, to rip and tear with wild glee, Raoul managed to hold himself back. Even with just fists, knees, and feet, he was still doing serious damage to the much more lightly armored men and soon found himself standing at the center of a growing circle of unconscious or otherwise incapacitated ninjas with more just hurling themselves at him like this was a bad kung-fu movie.

After flinging aside a few more mooks, a voice called out something in Japanese causing the rest fell back but keep Raoul trapped with his back to a wall. Raoul watched in confusion as they cleared away the wounded before the circle parted just long enough to allow the voice's owner to step in. He was a hulking man in a conical straw hat with his face wrapped in a red scarf and a red cap over a much nicer looking version of the Foot's uniform. But Raoul was more focused on the scythe with a long chain in the man's hands that he was twirling menacingly.

Raoul ducked to the side as the chain's weighted end, causing it to spark against the bricks. But he wasn't fast enough to avoid getting it hooked around an ankle when the hulking man pulled the chain back, tripping him. He was able to turn his fall into a spin as he landed hard on ground, catching the hulking man right under the chin with a kick from his other leg before he could stab down with the scythe.

As the man staggered back, Raoul jumped back to his feet and tried to make a break for it only to get mobbed by the other ninjas and pushed back. This gave the hulking man time to recover, hurling the weighted end straight for Raoul's head.

The look of shock in the hulking man's face when Raoul casually just grabbed the chain in his left hand mere inches from his own face was almost worth it. He quickly took advantage of the moment to start wrapping it around his arm, jerking the man towards him like reeling in a fish.

Catching on, the hulking man wrapped the slack he still had tight around his hand as he shifted his stance to brace himself against getting pulled further. Then he jerked back hard on the chain, trying to knock Raoul off his feet.

This turned into a strange tug of war between them, with the other Foot ninjas looking on silently. It had gotten so quiet that all Raoul could hear was the heartbeats of the others and the hulking man's breath as he strained to pull the chain. Then he noticed an odd noise as they both pulled the chain even tighter, a little noise that made him smile.

With a crackling pop, the chain finally snapped under the strain and caused them both to stagger slightly backwards. Raoul recovered first, tossing the broken chain aside as he again tried to make a break for freedom only to be pushed back again. He barely managed to dodge a blow from the scythe, doing his best to resist the urge to go straight for the guy like a rabid dog. Instead, Raoul decided to work on getting the hulking man disarmed and worry about what to do next after that.

That would be easier said than done, as the hulking man still had enough chain left to use it like a whip. The man kept trying to tangle up one of Raoul's limbs, growling and grunting in growing rage as Raoul deftly skipped and dodged. Finally, fed up with the boy seemingly treating this fight like a dance, the hulking man feinted by lashing the chain to one side of Raoul's head before he rushed the boy.

Raoul caught the scythe as it swung down towards his skull, using the momentum of the man's charge to throw him into the brick wall. While the guy was stunned, Raoul made another try to escape and was pushed back yet again. He barely had time to avoid getting gutted as the hulking man flipped the scythe over and yanked it up just a mere fraction of an inch from Raoul's belly. When the man tried to hook the scythe into the joint at his armpit, Raoul grabbed the man's hand and twisted it hard in an attempt to get him to drop it. Unfortunately, Raoul failed to keep an eye on the chain in the hulking man's other hand.

The hulking man got a loop over Raoul's head and around his neck, kneeing him hard in stomach to make him drop to his knees and using the boy's own weight to help tighten the chain.

Scrambling to get it off as the hulking man throttled the life out of him, Raoul succumbed that dark urge, reaching back a hand to claw open the man's stomach. The sudden pain made the hulking man loosen his grip long enough to let Raoul get the chain off his neck. Then in one elegant motion, he rose to his feet and sliced a claw through the hulking man's neck.

The hulking man gave him a dulled look of surprise before his head fell off while his shuddering body fell down, first to his knees than crumbling to the side.

Raoul just stood there, watching in dazed awe as the small fountains of blood gushed out of the stumps. It looked nothing like the stuff seen in the movies, and he numbly realized that Texas Chainsaw Massacre had been accurate with the way a freshly killed body would convulsively writhe.

The Foot ninjas silently parted as Raoul walked away, barely registering that the battle appeared to be over. He just wander for a little ways, oblivious to everything as he watched the hulking man's death play out over and over again in his mind. At some point, Firefly came upon him and gently lead the boy to a rundown looking bar where the Foot and the Dreadnoks with their 'allies' had gather to discuss terms while Dead End sat in car mode with three other conspicuously nice sports cars and a semi-truck.

"You okay?" Firefly asked as he sat the boy down away from the arguing gangs and got him something to drink. He tried again when he noticed Raoul stayed quiet.

It took Raoul a moment to process that Firefly was talking to him, then he said bluntly, "I killed that guy."

"Yes. You did," said Firefly, giving him a small pat on the back.

"I just killed a man…"

"It was bound to happen sooner or latter," replied Firefly calmly, handing him a glass of whiskey. "Now, take your helmet off and drink."

"…are you fucking with me?" hissed Raoul, his numbness slowly turning into a quiet rage. "I just killed a man, and you want to celebrate?"

"No. This is because you seem to be in shock."

Raoul sat up stiffly, gently pushing the glass away. That cold other him took the helm, but this time Raoul gladly let that evil side do the talking now. "No. Thank you."

"You sure?"

"I'm fine," he said quietly, getting to his feet. "I'm going home now."

Firefly just lightly touched his arm to stop him. "Are you sure? Don't you at least want to wash off the blood?"

For a moment, the old Raoul slipped through to sobbingly gag at the gore still shining wetly on his hands. But his other self soon reasserted himself, laughing it off with a shrug. "Yeah… that might be a good idea. Wouldn't want to run into the cops like this."

Firefly said nothing but got up to follow Raoul towards the bathroom. As the walked past the table where the ninja all in white who Vester called 'Tommy' was arguing in Japanese with a brute of a man with a purple cape and blood splattered blades all over him. Raoul froze suddenly when another man dressed like the hulking one he'd killed came in with something wrapped up in red fabric that was soaked in a thick, dark fluid. As he watched in horror, the man unwrapped it and presented the severed head of the hulking man the brute in purple, calmly speaking in Japanese as he gestured over to Raoul and Firefly.

"The Koge negro killed him?" asked the purple brute as turned a baleful glare to Firefly.

"Īe, omo yo. Sore wa kikai no akumadeshita," said the other man, pointing an accusing finger at Raoul.

The brute rose and walked over to Raoul, staring down at him with a tranquil malice. "You? A mere girl killed one of my Elites?"

"I'm a man," Raoul blurted out, then took on a cockier tone. "And, yeah, I took out your boy. What you going do about it, motherfucker?"

"You know, Storm Shadow," the man said in a surprisingly cheerful tone as he turned back to the white ninja. "I think I shall accept your offer to settle this matter with a duel. But only on one condition: I choose the man you send against me."

"Very well," Tommy said, clearly expecting himself to be chosen. "Who will it be, Saki?"

Clearly smiling behind his mask, the man pointed at Raoul. "Him."

"Well, I'm flattered," chuckled Firefly, stepping out from behind Raoul and getting between him and Saki. "Where and when shall we meet?"

"I mean the robot devil, Storm Shadow. I will not lower myself to fighting with ugly, spotted cows," huffed Saki, pointedly ignoring Firefly.

Firefly went rigid, clearly ready to jump Saki but Raoul stepped up and put a calming hand on his shoulder. "It's cool. If this bastard wants to fight, I good for it. So, Sack or whatever your name is, let's go! I'm ready right now."

"My name is Oroku Saki. I am commander of the Foot clan's holdings in New York," the man said coldly. "But you might know me better by a different name: The Shredder."

Raoul froze again at that name, but he managed to hide his panic under a mass of bravado. "So what? Are we gone go outside and settle shit or what?"
The Shredder gave him a puzzled look, then turned back to Storm Shadow. "Tell me, when the hell did Cobra Commander start giving his grunts drugs and where can I get some of them?"

"I'm dead fucking sober, bitch!" snapped Raoul, aggressively shoving the Shredder. "Are we doing this or not?"

The Shredder stared at him absolutely dumbstruck, then he started laughing. "Okay… Really funny, Arashikage," he huffed. "This has to be a joke…"

"This isn't a joke," Storm Shadow replied in a flat voice.

"Are you being serious?!" the Shredder barked back. "No one in their right mind could be this stupid!"

"Apparently, Hellrider is indeed that stupid."

"Enough stalling," Raoul calmly said as his worse side shunted his old self completely aside again. "Are we having this duel or not, old man?"

"Old man?" chuckled Storm Shadow. "Little Saki-chan is young enough to be my son! It amazes me that the Foot clan trusted a mere boy to take over when his bastard brother got killed over a woman."

"At least I avenged my family," the Shredder shot back, giving Storm Shadow a smugly contemptuous glare.

Storm Shadow got to his feet in one smooth, graceful motion and got up in the Shredder's face despite the other man having over a foot on him. "Hellrider is right. We have stalled enough. It's time to finish this."

He walked towards a door leading out the back of the bar with Raoul following close behind, pausing only long enough to say, "You better hope the boy kills you before I can, Saki-chan…"

They went out into an alley, the various thugs forming up in a ring with the Shredder and Raoul at it's center. This time, Raoul found himself welcoming the growing bloodlust and took a stance that seemed like he just standing there like a sitting duck.

"What's the stakes, Arashikage?" asked the Shredder as he studied Raoul carefully. "Is this to be to first blood? Or are we going to the death?"

Before Storm Shadow could answer, there was sudden the sound of several transformation cogs engaging followed by what seemed to be a series of very intense car crashes happening all at once. Then a large white robot came crashing through the building they'd just vacated, causing the humans to go scurrying for safety.

The sudden shock gave Raoul just enough lucidity to regain control of himself and take advantage of chaotic battle going on to make a run for it. But he didn't get far before the Shredder cut him off.

"Where are you going, boy?" he laughed. "We're not done…"

Before the Shredder could lunge for him, a massive metal hand scooped Raoul up like he was a kitten.

"No," Tracks said through a static filled voice as he glared down at the Shredder. "It's done."

The Shredder meet his stare, did a brief bit of mental math about his chances against a very angry robot that had over thirty feet in height and several tons of weight on him, then beat a dignified retreat with smoke bomb.

As Jack and Arcee finished running off the last Decepticons, Tracks started staggering away, holding Raoul close to his chest despite the boy's attempts to squirm out of his grasp.

"What the hell are you doing?" Raoul barked, flipping open his visor to glare at him.

"Rescuing you," croaked Tracks before he stumbled and landed on a knee.

"No," snapped Raoul as he got free and jumped to the ground. "No. You need to be in that CR chamber."

"You… needed… me…"

"I don't need you!" Raoul screamed back, then went calm and very cold as he smiled behind the lower part of his mask. "I can take care of myself, Tracks. I don't need anyone any more."

Tracks stared at him, his expression broken and filled with more than just a merely physical pain. He started to speak, only to be cut short by a sudden blast of electricity.

The shockwave had been strong enough to blow them both apart, slamming Raoul through the side of a dumpster behind what might have been a restaurant. As he felt the drool building up in his mouth over the stench of rancid sesame oil and rotting food, the ringing in his ears quickly turned to agonizing screams and a terrible, girlish laughing. He turned his head towards the sound to see a slender figure in a trench-coat floating above Tracks, gleefully shooting jolt after jolt of lightning into the barely conscious robot.

Numbly, Raoul stood up and just stared for a moment, then he felt a sudden rage. It wasn't the heated sort that he was used to, but an icy fury that filled him up like frigid water. His mind flashback to the moment Buzzsaw pined him down, reminding him of that hideous helplessness. But he wasn't helplessness any more, was he?

It was only a few seconds before Raoul snapped, sprinting forward at a superhuman speed before leaping up to grab the hem of the guy's coat and use the momentum to sling him right into a nearby wall. He landed gracefully and sprinted for the guy hoping to catch him before he could get back up.

The guy managed to get his shit together just quick enough to hit Raoul with sudden electric blast and knocked him back several feet. He started to laugh that creepy girly laugh, then went silent in shock.

Raoul got back to his feet, even more enraged over getting what felt like just a mild little shock. He crouched and lunged for the guy again, catching another jolt that merely stung but pushed him back again.

"What the hell?!" the guy gasped in a voice that sounded extremely feminine. "You… you can't do this!"

Saying nothing, Raoul lunged again and this time managed to brace himself against the shockwave as the guy tried to fry him again. It was still only a sting and a little heat, but Raoul was more annoyed that the guy still managed to push him back just far enough to avoid Raoul's claws.

"You should be dead!" shrieked the guy as he hysterically began blasting with ever higher amounts of electricity into Raoul. When he saw that the boy was just standing there taking it stoically, the guy began screaming in rage and punctuated each word with more electricity that pushed Raoul back again, "You can't do this! You should be dead! Dead! Dead! DEAD!"

"Are you done, Josie?" Raoul heard himself say in a familiar female voice, feeling as if a ghostly hand was twisting his tongue, lips, and throat like a sock puppet.

Josie went stock still, then with a scream of blind fury blasted Raoul with enough electricity that it sparked along all the nearby metals and melted the asphalt where he stood.

"…pathetic," said the voice while Raoul marveled at the fact that he survived that with only a slightly uncomfortable tingle of warmth.

Josie just stared in disbelief, looking like a little kid who'd just been busted breaking their toys. "No… No, you're dead… You're dead…"

"And here stands my ghost," said Presser's voice as Raoul took a menacing step forward. "Alongside the ghosts of all your other victims, Josie… Shall I tell you their names, Josie? The list is quite long even if we just go with all the poor humans you've slaughter…"

"They were traitors to their own kind!" screamed Josie, again trying to cremate Raoul with raw power.

In the distance, Raoul though he faintly heard sirens.

"You're just a murderer," said Presser mildly while Raoul unstuck his feet to take a few more steps towards the guy. "Just another petty murderer trying to justify themselves by blaming everyone but themselves. But you always were good at that, weren't you Josie?"

Raoul noticed the flashing of red and blue light.

"Shut up!" Josie roared like wounded animal, hitting Raoul with another blast which would have done Zeus proud. "Shut up! Dead things don't talk! You're just a corpse!"

"And what are you, Josie?" asked Presser in a very polite voice as Raoul got within striking distance. "Tell me. Just who the fuck do you think you are?"

Josie stared for a moment, clearly shocked that Raoul wasn't a greasy smear of ash right now. Then he began to laugh, quietly at first then more loudly and frantically as he started to rise into air again. "Don't you get it, you fucking little cunt?! I AM GOD!"

Just as Josie's feet passed Raoul's head, he leapt upwards and stabbed the claws of his index and middle finger straight up into the guy's groin. As the guy shrieked in pain, Raoul hooked his fingers into the pelvic bone and hurled Josie across the street. Raoul immediately sprinted for the writhing guy, smashing his heel as hard as he possibly could into Josie's spine. He quickly followed up by kicking and stamping down into Josie, feeling a grim satisfaction at the sound of bones shattering and flesh getting pulped. Then he decided to finish it and began stomping Josie's head into the curb.

He only stopped when he heard a shout and then…

BANG!-BANG!-BANG!*

Raoul staggered back at the abrupt impacts of three bullets smashing through his armor into his body. In shock, he idly noticed a green beret wrestling a heavily modified pistol from a man in glasses. Then the HUD flashed warnings about 'terminal damage' as Raoul collapsed into darkness.

Before he went completely, he heard Presser faintly say, "I'm sorry."