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Disclaimer: I do not own the Transformers movie, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
The Human Stain:
Chapter 15
We've been searching
all night long

But there's no trace to be found

It's like they all have just vanished

But I know they're around
I feel them getting
closer

Their howls are sending chills down my spine

And time is running out now

They're coming down the hills from behind
-Within Temptation, The Howling

Claire crouched low behind
an upturned van, peering over one end to lay her eyes on the two large figures
dominating the terrain.
For a moment she could not
identify a sudden ache that welled up in her chest, but after a second of
puzzlement she realized what it was.
Claire felt helpless. She wanted
to help Smokescreen, she wanted to do something, but she was just an
insect in comparison. If she suddenly had three wishes from a genie�s magic
lamp, she knew exactly what she would wish for. She would sprout fifteen extra
feet, gain invincibility, and have the power to shoot deadly laser beams from
her eye sockets.
But,
alas. She was
only a mere human. Frankly, it sucked. Her eyes strayed from a strict scrutiny
of Smokescreen to a more fearful one of his opponent.
Okay, maybe she�d better
recant on those wishes after all. She wouldn�t have the guts to get that close
to something like that in a million years, even if she did have magical
abilities. You could empower the human, but you couldn�t take away a human�s
natural fear of something they did not understand. It just didn�t work that
way.
So, here she was, back to
square one when all things were said and done. There was a thrum of modulation
along the airwaves that suppressed even the irritating drone of the helicopter.
It appeared that the two Cybertronians were
communicating loudly with one another, but she couldn�t be sure. She heard
Smokescreen�s distinct voice, but it... it was altered. It sounded
somewhat like the discombobulated mishmash of tones and voices you would hear
by turning a radio dial too quickly when scanning through stations in a car. It
was high, it was low, and it was everything in-between in quick succession. The
Decepticon responded in kind, operating on a much
deeper garble than Smokescreen.
It was almost like they
were goading one another.
They were speaking in
another tongue, another language. No, not just any language � it was their
language. Claire was broad sided by this knowledge, but then she was just as
surprised by her own shock. They were from another world � why wouldn�t they
have their own language? Why did she not consider this before? The answer came
to her quickly, just as she expected it to. She felt somewhat ashamed, but it
was true � she needed to start thinking about perspectives other than her own.
She had been doing too much self-pitying lately, and it had confined her to her
own narrow perception.
Deep down she felt a curl
of exhilaration drift up, like smoke, and she thought, very quietly, that if
she had never lost her leg so many years ago she would not have known
Smokescreen, would not have reached this inward revelation, would not have
realized how much more there was to life had she not almost lost it all and
gained it back again.
And, all things
considered, she would not have appreciated it as much. She would not be here
now, behind a tipped vehicle, watching live what most regular people would
never see in their lifetimes. The very fact that she was still in place said
something greater than any dream ever could.
She would not have, at
this moment, found herself with the strength of resolve to stay had it not been
for everything else. For Smokescreen, for all of it.
Claire would have mused
over it more, had the Decepticon not made the first
charge. If she had been paying attention, she would have noticed the sounds the
robots emitted had quieted, settling to a grave silence before the eve of
action.
Just as his dark foe
launched himself forward, Smokescreen darted sideways. The strides that both
took were so long that they stepped on several other homes around the one they
had already destroyed. People ran out of one, screaming. There were children
there, too � little dots crying and sobbing as they were pulled along by the
guidance of their parents� insistent hands.
Shit. This couldn�t happen here,
not now. Smokescreen seemed to recognize this, or at least she hoped he had. He
was veering away, over a drainage ditch and into a fenced area inhabited by the
high voltage power lines that supplied electricity to the neighborhood. Three
homes now lay in collapse in the wake of their movements, and it was only the
beginning. Silently, Claire prayed that no one was dead.
The Decepticon
sprang again, and she marveled at their speed despite their immense size.
Smokescreen immediately reacted, or rather his shoulder cannons did � one
swiveled to target the enemy, the second followed suit, and then both fired. It
wasn�t a missile or a bullet of any recognizable kind that Claire could
identify. It was a white spray of sparks that entangled the air immediately
around the Decepticon. They flared and faded like
distant stars, perfectly spaced to form what appeared to be a net. Smokescreen�s
opponent was temporarily taken off guard by this, and stilled � he seemed
dazed, of all things.
Smokescreen spoke again in
his alien tongue, his intonations high and fast. It might have been words of
triumph, or a perhaps he was mocking the Decepticon.
She couldn�t understand any of it, but knowing Smokescreen� he was probably
engaging in the latter.
She was following them
slowly, suicidal though it may be. She wound her way around large objects,
keeping a relatively safe distance. It was all she could do to support
Smokescreen, really. She didn�t want to admit it, but she worried for him. It
bothered her on too many levels that she was more concerned for his well being
than that of the people running for safety, but that was the truth of it.
The metal bird above her followed, mutually interested in the outcome. She wished she
could shoo it away, wave it off, but there would be no such luck. The police
were all around by then � they were out of their vehicles (real police and real
cars, thankfully), herding throngs of curious onlookers away from the epic
scene. The other portion of the police force was poised at the ready on their
knees, automatic assault rifles aimed at the two combatants. Claire wasn�t sure
the tiny weapons would do much good, but she could let them hope. She kept out
of their way and notice by edging along the sides of cars and homes, keeping
low to the ground.
The shriek of a broken
sound barrier temporarily interrupted her advancement, and she hazarded another
look skywards.
W� Tee� Eff� her mind railed.
It shot down from the
heavens like a silver bullet, headed straight for the hovering helicopter.
Gunfire erupted from its wings, blazing in orange bursts.
The helicopter promptly
exploded.
Fiberglass chunks rained
down upon the earth, slapping the neighborhood heavily with debris. A metal
blade from the tail rotor narrowly missed slicing her in two � if she hadn�t
been watching the event in disbelief, she wouldn�t have had the foresight to
dive beneath someone�s deck. Her palms bit the dirt below her aching body, and
she bit her lip hard in the process. Flinching at the self-inflicted pain, she
peered out at the new threat.
The bevy of law
enforcement officials stationed on the ground instantly fired upon the quick
aircraft. A military jet, of all things, had just shot down a civilian
helicopter. It raced through the air again, taking another downward swipe
towards Smokescreen and the Decepticon. Its guns
opened up again, and Claire knew it was not just a jet.
Smokescreen was getting into
more trouble than he could handle. The Decepticon had
regained his bearings and the electric net had disappeared. He advanced
menacingly on Smokescreen while the Autobot was being
pummeled by air. Claire�s eyes widened to the point of popping free of her
skull, and then she raced from beneath the deck.
�No, no, no, no,�
she repeated rapidly as she ran.
Claire didn�t know what
she was doing, or how she was going to go about doing it � all she could think
about was how she had to help Smokescreen.
�Going somewhere, dear?�
The mocking words punched a hole straight through her
frantic thought processes, stopping them cold. An arm snaked out, manacling her
by the midsection and swinging her around like it was connected to a dance
partner. She spun, lost her balance, and fell heavily on her hip. Groaning,
Claire attempted to regain her bearings when a familiar shape loomed over her
prone form.
The thing that killed
Simon grinned manically. He unfurled one of his arms like a ringmaster
unveiling the wonders of his carnival acts and held it in the direction of the
battling robots. �The fools! It is all working
as it should!�
�What?!� Claire murmured from the ground,
holding her head. It still hurt. She lifted her eyes to Simon�s face, but did
not recognize it.
The Trans-Organic�s rabid excitement was showing through the mask he
wore, twisting Simon�s features into a wild expression. It was the face of a
psychotic inventor, a crazy doctor. No sane person could attain such a visage
without the fanatical enthusiasm behind it. �It�s amazing how these things play
out, is it not? Just wondrous!� The Trans-Organic ran
a trembling hand through Simon�s dark hair, his awed face turned towards the
battle.
Claire had no idea what he
was rambling about, but she didn�t take chances. She lifted her leg, the
prosthetic one, and jammed it back behind the hybrid�s knees. He went down fast
as he lost the locked support his lower joints supplied him, and Claire
scrambled to her feet and took off running again.
Mocking laughter filled
the air behind her, and Claire dove around charred helicopter fragments as her
legs bore her through the drainage ditch. Wastewater slowed her movements,
slogging her legs in a filthy mixture of liquid. She was already dirty, burned,
skinned, and who knew what else � this was nothing. The human woman waded
through the mess until she ascended the opposite bank, climbing the rise that
led to the line of tall power lines. A heavy reverberation shook the ground
like an earthquake, and it took her a second to realize one of the titans had
fallen.
Predictably, it was
Smokescreen. Claire�s heart hitched painfully. She drove herself towards him,
acting beyond all reason. Her brain was screaming for her to turn around, to
shift directions, but she would not listen. She would likely die for this, but
her arms would not stop pumping, her legs would not stop cycling, and she could
not reverse her trajectory.
Smokescreen was laying half askew against the skeletal tower of a crumpled
power line. The steel structure had impacted part of his fall, and a smoking
crater had formed over one of the headlights on his upper chest. The ground
around her started shaking again, indicating the footfalls of a giant behind
her. She had been spotted.
Falling to all fours,
Claire scrabbled around Smokescreen�s left foot until she was next to his
lifeless right hand. �Smokescreen�� she whispered hoarsely, wondering if
he could hear her from so high up. Her body tilted and she turned herself to
face her pursuer.
It was the dark Decepticon.
A blast of hot wind blew
her bangs out of her face, cooling the perspiration that had collected on her
forehead. The jet now plummeted towards them, stealing the breath from her
lungs as it transformed just before it made landfall. Claire bowed her head as
a plume of smoke and sand blasted her point-blank from the jet�s sudden
landing.
The woman�s heart thrummed
erratically in her ears as the second Decepticon
appeared before the first. One small hand, the one closest to Smokescreen,
absently began groping the ground beside it as Claire sought the reassuring
metal plane of his nearest finger. The press of her yielding palm against the
hard metal surface of his small digit did nothing to quell her fear. The two Decepticons advanced, tangling the sound waves with their
unintelligible electronic modulations. Claire stole one last glance up at
Smokescreen, willing the dust to clear so she could see his face. If she were to die � and it seemed inevitable � she at least wanted
him to see she came. She wasn�t sure why it mattered, but somehow it did
� at least to her.
Smokescreen�s blue eyes
were not lit. Was he out? Unconscious? His face was
slack, unmoving and unresponsive. A mechanical whine stole her focus from him,
and two gray eyes widened with the realization that the flying Decepticon had transformed one of his arms into a missile
launcher trained specifically on her. The small geometric plates composing the Decepticon�s metal face moved downwards, effectively
creating a dark smile of satisfaction. As a whole, this new Decepticon
carried a keen physical resemblance to a wasp � he was all sharp angles and
carried plenty of stingers.
She licked her lips,
grimacing at the gritty slide of sand granules against her tongue. She tasted
salt. Had she been crying? Her eyes were definitely wet, but that was only
because of all the dust in the air � had to be.
�Foul thing,� the
hornet-like robot said in English. His voice had a rough, sandpapery grain to
it. His weaponry lit up, and Claire braced herself �
- but
the hand beneath hers moved, grasped her around the waist �
- she
was tossed, airborne �
- and
landed several feet away, sliding along the gravel like a loose rock. Her chin
struck the ground hard on landing, and pain lanced through her brain. Behind
her, the ground exploded into shards of earth and a bright bloom of light
surrounded her vision. She felt searing heat, and pressed herself to lie as
flatly as possible.
If they made it out of
this alive (and that was a very big IF), the very next thing she was
going to do was draft an �Autobot Sympathizer Bill of
Rights� and make sure Smokescreen was the first to sign it. Rule number one on
said list would be the right to be handled in a respected, safe way - no more
of this rag doll crap. She was being thrown left and right like some negligent
child�s plaything, and it was really starting to get old.
She was sure she could
keep adding new rights in the future � the need for them cropped up more often
than not. People would thank her left and right for pioneering such an
ingenious idea. In fact, she was surprised she didn�t think of it before.
Then again, being at
death�s door one too many times had the power to give people
some pretty uncommon insight.
A snort of derision
cleared her of her sudden inspiration, and she wearily lifted her head to stare
over her shoulder. Claire�s eyes widened.
The Trans-Organic was
there, staring down at her with Simon�s hard brown eyes. Smokescreen was no
longer down � he was on his feet and locked in struggle against the dark Decepticon. The flying robot stood between them both, his
focus going wild in a vain attempt to lock down on Smokescreen without taking
out his peer in the process. Their odd language filled the air again, loud and
insistent. The lighter Decepticon that had fired on
her must of thought her dealt with, because he did not
look her way nor acknowledge the Trans-Organic next to her.
The creature with Simon�s
face stood over her like a vengeful god. He bent at the waist, encircling her
closest forearm with his hand. He wrenched her painfully to her feet, and she
met his glare with her own. A whirring sound dropped her eyes to his arm. His
hand had transformed into that taloned claw she had
seen on her own clone � and as if to prove to her the danger, he held it to her
throat. The sharp blades traced the thin skin beneath her jaw line, and she
swallowed delicately against the points.
�Watch,� he rasped in her
ear. �They will eradicate one another without any work from our end.�
Claire kept her head
tilted up, attempting to ignore the fact that her pulse was at blade point. Any
sudden move from her would bring his metal claws right into her throat, ending
her life in an instant. She drew herself up as regally as possible despite her
broken state. �Why?� Her voice was strangled and she frowned at the reedy
pitch. The question was simple, true, but it was enough to hopefully buy time.
�Why?� he mimicked. The
Trans-Organic barked out an acidic laugh as if it were the dumbest thing he had
ever been asked. �Why, indeed?�
She wasn�t going to play
mind games with him. Smokescreen had managed to overpower Barricade, and the
two were tumbling like wrestlers along the ground. The power line towers were
in a complete state of disarray � some were felled completely, some were only halfway
standing, and others had yet to succumb. Live electrical
wires hissed and showered sparks everywhere, giving Claire an idea.
Stall, she needed to
stall. The jet Decepticon was growing ever more
frustrated, evidenced by the warning shots he fired over both interlocked
robots. He was on the verge of shooting them both if something did not happen
in the next few moments.
Worse yet, it was all up
to her, the human. She was the weakest creature there, and if anything was
going to save Smokescreen and herself� well, it had to be her.
She gave a cautionary
wriggle, only to be awarded with the press of hot pricks against her throat. �I
do not think you would be so stupid to try something else,� the Trans-Organic
reminded her matter-of-factly. The hand banded around her forearm tightened,
and he pushed her towards the Decepticons � and
inadvertently towards one of the sizzling live wires. Black smoke was rising
from the contact between the ground and wire, creating a blinding white light
with a blue corona at the top.
Yes�
�What are you planning?�
she asked, hopefully turning the Trans-Organic�s
attention back on his cryptic remarks.
�Too many questions� you
ask too many questions. I would stop.� He played his metallic claw along her
skin, tapping her jugular mindfully. �We wouldn�t want you to lose your ability
to speak, would we?�
She swallowed the urge to
curse him � literally choked off the word.
He drove her forward and
she did not resist. Her eyes continually flickered between the Cybertronians and the hissing cable nearby. Her captor
spoke without moving his lips from behind her, issuing forth the strange
inflections of the aliens by way of some robotic voice box. If her life were
not in peril, Claire would be marveling over the fact that the hybrid was able
to not only speak through a human esophagus, but through a computer as well.
They kept proving to be more and more a melding of human and machine.
Twin flares of temporary
blue light from the propulsion jets of the waspish Decepticon
made an arrant display of frustration as he turned to glance down at the
Trans-Organic behind him. The two exchanged heated words in the Cybertronian language. The fully robotic Decepticon narrowed his red optics at the woman the
Trans-Organic held before returning the glare to his equally small comrade.
There seemed to be no love lost between them.
In the meantime, the squad
car Decepticon locked in physical combat against
Smokescreen was proving to be the stronger of the two robots. He shoved
Smokescreen back once more, raised a spinning disc connected to one arm over
the other mechanoid�s head, and the two lost balance
and were propelled backwards.
Claire noted the proximity
of the wire, and that was when she made her move.
Using the Trans-Organic�s terse distraction with the flying Decepticon to her advantage, Claire shifted the entirety of
her weight sideways and back. The Trans-Organic instantly brought his
razor-sharp points up into her throat, but she was past the point of caring.
They pierced her skin as they both went down from the loss of balance, and her
eyes saw red.
Smokescreen toppled with
the dark Decepticon on top of him, just as Claire
landed heavily on the Trans-Organic behind her. She angled her body sideways as
she did so, and felt the tear of flesh across her neck as the thing�s talons
raked bloody welts across her skin. The woman tumbled away, saved by the
Trans-Organics instinctual need to cushion his fall. Both hands released her,
moving behind him to brace his landing � but instead he touched the bare wire
instead.
Unfortunately, the same
was true for Smokescreen.
Naturally, Smokescreen�s
large limb shot out to catch his own loss of balance. The radius of electrical
fire created by the wire was large enough to extend to them both, and the
results were instantaneous.
Claire�s vision exploded.
She hung in the moment, balling up into a fetal position that ultimately saved
her life. Her body tumbled away, the wind rushed past her ears, and she kept
abreast of the infernal heat nipping at her heels. She wished she could be
anywhere else but in that moment, but she could not stop the universe from
rolling forwards just like she could not stop her body from rolling along.
There was no breath,
nothing but abrasion from below and heat, heat, heat �
She came to a stop. A
burst of dust shot sideways from where her body landed, and she slowly turned
her head to avoid jarring her throbbing cranium any further. Her heart hurt
with every beat it took, and she realized that blood was seeping down her
collarbone in red rivulets. A weak hand rose, fluttered about the damage on her
throat, and then fell back to the ground. The gashes were possibly terminal,
and she would bleed to death if the flow of blood was not staunched quickly.
A raging inferno had
spread on the spot where Smokescreen lay, and Simon�s killer was nowhere to be
seen. She caught sight of a dark squad car peeling out of the ruined remains of
electrical lines, as well as the sound of a jet�s distant screams.
They left?
Refusing to think about it
too much, Claire just thanked her lucky stars. Panic loomed over the backside
of her brain, and she shrugged her soiled shirt off in haste. Down to just a
bra, the woman turned the article of clothing inside out. Both sides were
filthy, but the reverse side was less so. Claire wrapped the shirt around her
throat like a dirty scarf and tied the sleeves at the nape of her neck. The air
was even hotter on her exposed midriff, but she hardly took note. Once the
shirt was secure, she began her approach on Smokescreen.
Smoke and burns blackened
his exterior, and he lay in a crumpled heap surrounded by small fires. The live
wire that had toasted him had jumped on contact, and now lay several meters
away. It was still going off, as if daring its next victim to get close �
Claire gave it ample room.
�Smokescreen!� she
called, getting as close to his body as possible. He was surrounded by a halo
of fires, none of which she could cross without risking third degree burns. As
it stood, she already had several first degree burns that could easily
deteriorate further.
No response.
�C�mon, Smokescreen, wake
up!� Claire cupped both of her hands to her face to amplify her voice. When
this too had no effect, she walked the loop of the fire�s radius, attempting to
catch his attention from different angles. She would have run, but her body
could not take much more. It was already pressed beyond exhaustion, and frankly
she was surprised she was even standing.
Damnit.
He was made of metal, but
he was not impervious to flame. Near his feet, his exterior had peeled away,
revealing curling flakes of automobile paint and ash. He was turning a sooty
white-gray color as the fire consumed whatever was first burnable. His eyes
were no longer lit, and he just lay there � Claire�s despair grew, and she
wrung her hands helplessly. She could not get to him, could not put the flames
out, and the police were advancing.
Throwing a shaky look over
her shoulder, her eyes confirmed what her mind would not. The local law
enforcement was nearly upon her. There was a smattering of F.B.I. agents
amongst them as well, and god only knew what they would do with Smokescreen�s
body. The only small relief she could feel was from the sight of the fire
trucks pulling through the entrance to the power grid from the right. Firemen
were disentangling hoses, readying the nozzles for a water battle.
�Ma�am?� a concerned voice
inquired, pulling her attention to the face of a young police officer in a
pressed uniform. Beside him stood a taller man with a goatee, most likely his superior.
Others worked around them, hustling to and fro as they carried out their
duties. Oddly, none of them seemed to hold panic or concern over what exactly
caused the destruction. They were the perfect vision of professionalism, moving
with purpose and intent.
It was almost as if this
was not at all new to them.
Claire mumbled something,
unsure of what she said. Vertigo pressed down on her from all sides,
surrounding her with the need to lay down. It was from
blood loss, no doubt, but all her glassy eyes reflected was
the image of Smokescreen.
�Ma�am,� the older man
tried, stepping ahead of the younger officer. �You need to get examined. We
have an ambulance waiting� please follow me.� The man with the goatee took her
by the shoulders, turning her to the correct path of the waiting dispatch.
Claire fought him tiredly, attempting to keep her vision on Smokescreen. Like
the other people working around them, both men acted like he was not even
there. He was a large shape dominating the downed power lines, but she remained
a focal point of concern instead. It didn�t make sense.
�Please, no, you have to �
you have to put out the fire � help him.�
�Help who?� the officer
asked.
She threw a lifeless look
to Smokescreen. Could they not see? Were they blind? He could be dead! Claire
had refused to think it before, but now that she was aware of this real
possibility � well, all she could feel was a staunch dread. It spread over her
limbs, a cold gloom that doused the pain of her burns and made her go numb. No.
He couldn�t be dead. He just couldn�t. What would she do? He had turned
into some kind of crazy companion. Sure, the Autobot
had been a real jerk to her on more than one occasion, but he didn�t deserve
this end. Not this.
It seemed surreal, an
impossibility made definitely possible by the slip of a second.
�N-no,� she muttered,
putting more effort into her attempts to turn around. Dimly, she became aware
that it was quite possible she was shell-shocked.
�Ma�am,� the taller
officer warned more firmly.
�I will go with her,� a
new voice intervened, turning three sets of surprised eyes on the speaker.
Claire�s hearing was
decidedly sadistic. She thought she heard Smokescreen in that deep voice.
Instead, she saw Simon. He walked up to their small cluster with a mismatched
gait that was likely an effect of his injuries in the blast.
Wait� how did he
survive that? her muzzy mind pondered. He should have been
incinerated upon contact with the wire.
�G-g-get him away from
me,� she chattered, stumbling backwards. One of her hands came up, and pressed
itself into the cushion of her cheek. Stupid, she told herself. She had
forgotten that the Trans-Organic was still possibly around. It could be a
costly mistake to make the assumption a second time, and she vowed not to.
�Who are you?� demanded
the younger police officer. His brow furrowed at Claire�s reaction, therefore
instilling his own with suspicion and distrust.
�I�m�� the man trailed,
and again Claire heard Smokescreen. The young woman blinked rapidly, flitting her gaze all over his face in order to find the
origin of the voice. It couldn�t be coming from the Trans-Organic�s
mouth, after all. A wild look over to Smokescreen�s immobile body made her feel
awash with even more content � the firemen were spraying the area down, and he
was no longer burning.
Two accusing eyes darted
back to the creature that wore Simon�s face.
�I�m Simon Walters. We
used to be married,� he supplied with a finish. �I was here with her when this
all happened, and we got separated in the chaos.�
Oh, god.
It was definitely
Smokescreen�s voice.
Claire appraised him with
unconcealed awe, wondering if it was just another trick of the Trans-Organic to
mimic the voices of others. She would be inclined to believe that, had she not
noted the awkward way the man stood, or the way he breathed too fast when
speaking � as if he did not know how to moderate his intake of air.
Smokescreen would not know
these things, being a robot. As it stood, as he stood, he seemed very
awkward with himself. He was burned badly in spots, but nothing extensive. It
was mind-blowing that his physical form had somehow withstood melting into a
bubbling soup of flesh and metal after the explosion, and she could not
conceive how that was so.
There was a moment of
intense silence, and then both of the officers looked to her. �Is this true,
ma�am? Do you know this man?� She felt the fingers of the older officer�s hands
on her shoulders tense and then relax. He was doubtful, but so was she.
Her mouth moved, but no
words came. She hadn�t realized just how chapped her lips were until then. Her
pupils had dilated to such a size that they nearly swallowed the gray iris that
circled them. She saw, she heard, but she could not believe.
It was too much � it was
just too damn much. Her body had been put through too much stress, and her mind
was in complete upheaval. She felt her brain begin to shut down, and the last
thing she heard was Smokescreen speaking through Simon�s body. An alien robot,
occupying the physical manifestation of her ex-husband � it was like a bad
sci-fi movie -
- and
she was smack dab in the middle of it.
�She needs medical
attention,� Smokescreen-as-Simon said.
Claire blanked out, with
one crucial, nagging thought occupying her last moments of consciousness.
How..?

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. All
recognizable characters are the property of HasTak.
All original characters are mine.
A/N: Uh-oh. Now Claire has to deal with
Smokescreen in Simon�s body. It�s bad enough to have to hang around your
ex-husband, but now she has to deal with the fact that a transformer happens to
look just like him.
Timberwolf:� You got it, here�s your update!� The cookie did it!� It was D-lish!� And yeah� I would
agree she likes arguing with him too, she just doesn�t realize it yet. XD
I�m working on getting a
picture done of Smokescreen and Claire �meeting� for the first time in the
desert (when she first wakes up after being attacked by her Trans-Organic
look-alike). It should be done this weekend. This will be my last update until
after I move, so expect updates to begin again in late April. Sorry, guys!
Thanks for your support and reviews!
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The Human Stain