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Spavinaw State Park, Oklahoma - Road 20/82 near Indian Springs Rd.

A brilliant flash of light covered the area for a fraction of a second approximately at 0:14 am in the night before the darkness spread its veil back over the region. Only 8 pairs of glowing optics penetrated the night for a short moment before they were replaced by lights projected from six different vehicles, two big rigs and 4 sportscars. In matter of moments, revving of engines took over the silence of the night as the group of Decepticons tested the engines of their new forms.

>>"Listen up boys! This will not end up like the fiasco we were involved in Chigaco. Until I give the permission, you will avoid drawing any attention to yourselves. This ain't not to say that you cannot cause any wrecks as long as there's no witnesses. That clear?!"<< Motormaster's doom-laden voice boomed through the communication systems of the rest of the group. >>"Good. Rumble, Frenzy engage hologram cloaks and select yourselves a ride, rest of you - engage hologram drivers."<<

Having said that, a hologram of a large, muscular man appeared on the driver's seat of the large black and grey International LoneStar semi which took the point, its engine roaring - not allowing time for either Rumble or Frenzy to get inside of its cabin.

>>"Our final target is the Frontier refinery in El Dorado but we are hardly in a hurry to reach it. I want you to spread out and scout for fleshsack re-fueling stations in the nearby region. We are going to get Octane's tanks full and some fuel sent back to Ultrax before we go open and assault the meatbag refinery to gain the attention of the Autobots. Even still, hammer it to your thick craniums none of you will do anything to pick up the attention of the fleshlings or the Autobots before it is time. We will make this look like a proper operation under Infiltration protocols! If the slaggin' bot's see us clearing the roads of those disgusting organics with no good reason, they will instantly realize we are here to grab their attention. That ain't gonna happen, get it?! Now, hit the roads!"<<

Spavinaw State Park, Oklahoma - Road 20/82 near Indian Springs Rd.

Once the brilliant light of the bounce beam dissipated, Drag Strip appeared standing alongside the rest of his Stunticon cohorts and one triple changing fueler. The former racer immediately followed the lead of his commander and transformed into his Dodge Viper SRT-10 vehicle mode. His headlights pierced through the darkness that had consumed them, illuminating the way directly ahead. He revved his engine in anticipation of the potential destruction he would soon cause.

Unfortunately, any kind of real fun would have to wait for a while as Motormaster laid out the rules they were all to follow. Clearly they would be under standard infiltration restrictions and protocols which would limit the amount of damage they could inflict on the locals, at least for the time being. Once they reached the refinery in El Dorado, then things would change and thus get very interesting again. Until then, the Stunticons were on a simple fuel hunt with the goal of filling up Octane’s tanks as much as possible.

How boring, Drag Strip thought as his engine settled down at the realization that rampant destruction would not be immediately forthcoming. Maybe he could get away with one or two wrecks just as long as there were no witnesses, like Motormaster said. The yellow Stunticon would have to be very careful, though, as he did not want to incur the wrath of his leader once again. Primus knows that old motor head didn’t need any additional reasons to pound on him some more.

The notion of one of Soundwave’s cassetticons riding inside of him was not appealing to Drag Strip at all and thus he immediately activated his holographic driver, a young man in his early twenties wearing a slick leather jacket and blue jeans. Drag then peeled out when Motormaster finally gave the order to hit the roads, leaving only tire tracks in his wake. The yellow sports car traveled down the deserted 20/82 highway at a high rate of speed, screeching through tight bends before passing Indian Springs Road and continuing onward towards the nearest town. Hopefully, he would soon encounter what the flesh sacks called a gas station where he could score the first batch of fuel for Octane’s tanks.

Spavinaw State Park, Oklahoma - Road 20/82 near Indian Springs Rd.

Wildrider revved his engines a few times. Everything was sounding good. He continued to scan his immediate surroundings. They sure had been dropped in the middle of nowhere. The terrain looked to consist of little more than grain crops of one type or another for as far as his sensors could scan. But apparently nestled within this vast sea of nothing were some high-yield human fuel deposits that could be modified to even sweeter tasting energon down the road. That was a plus.

Another plus was the fact that human fuel supplies tended to be highly crammed together and also exceedingly combustible. He’d noticed that much from the last time they were here. A simple spark from a scraping door could send an entire location up in flames. Wildrider admittedly got a little giddy at the prospect of seeing it happen, but he’d try to contain himself. No need to get on Motormaster’s bad side right off the bat. Besides, that was too easy. The Stunticon Terrorist wanted to build up a masterpiece of chaos and destruction before he decided to light the fuse.

He pulled up near Frenzy. Of all of Soundwave's little toys, he had seen some of what that one could do and it was always endlessly entertaining to him.

"Need a ride?" the Terrorist chuckled, his driver's side door flipping open.

Spavinaw State Park, Oklahoma – Road 20/82 near Indian Springs Rd.

After the bright light that accompanied their bounce had vanished; the whole of the Stunticon team appeared in their vehicle modes. Breakdown revved his engines just as Wildrider did, but he soon quieted down when he heard Motormaster cut in over his comm link. Raising havoc was the Stunticons’ specialty but now it seemed as though they were going to have to play it safe. Breakdown huffed in annoyance, but he never voiced his opinion for fear of being rend limb from limb by their Commander.

After Motormaster’s little speech Breakdown noticed both Frenzy and Rumble standing by waiting for a lift. Like the Pit I’m lettin’ one of those degenerates ride inside of me. The Lamborghini revved his engines once more and quickly took off after Drag Strip and activated his holographic driver.

Spavinaw State Park, Oklahoma - Road 20/82 near Indian Springs Rd.

Rumble and Frenzy materialized next to the Stunticons, a little bit dizzy at first but they quickly recovered. They half listened to Motormaster give orders, both more interested in looking around. They had been dying to get out of the base and Soundwave’s chest for awhile now and they were going to live it up. They both half heartedly activated their hologram cloaks. The two casseticons disappeared, replaced by two teenage boys, one with a Mohawk and the other with a shaved head. They sported tank tops, baggy shorts and visor style sunglasses.

They had been hoping to get a ride in Motormaster. He was the biggest and toughest one, so they probably wouldn’t get killed riding in him. It also meant that he would get them right into the thick of things. Unfortunately he didn’t waste in time and took off as soon as he could. He was followed by the other Stunticons peeling out behind him That left them with only the craziest of the Stunticons, Wildrider. Rumble and Frenzy were only slightly apprehensive, being somewhat crazy thrill junkies themselves. They quickly piled into the Stunticon.

“Slag yeah!” Frenzy yelled as he moved to get inside the open car. Rumble pushed him out of the way. “No me first!” He jumped in the waiting Stunticon. “Ya better make this worth if for us Wildrider. We don’t get out often so we wanna see plenty of destruction and mayhem.” “And be makin’ most of it!” Frenzy added as he jumped in.

Spavinaw State Park, Oklahoma - Road 20/82

The yellow Dodge Viper sped along the roadway that was clear as far as the optic could see. It greatly helped matters that it was so late in the nighttime hours as most of the flesh sacks were currently indoors sleeping. Drag Strip considered honking his horn repeatedly in order to wake up and annoy the disgusting filth that populated this mudball of a planet. Unfortunately, Motormaster’s orders were not to draw unwanted attention to himself, so the former racer refrained from having a little bit of mischievous fun that could very well attract the local law enforcement.

We wouldn’t want that now would we? Drag Strip thought as he drove through an intersection. Moments later, a pair of headlights appeared in his rearview mirror. At first he thought it was one of his fellow Stunticons as the vehicle in question was closing in on him fast. But, as it came up behind him, Drag did not recognize it as one of the new alt modes his comrades had chosen. It was a Ford Mustang, and the driver behind the wheel was no hologram.

Great, I’ve got a slaggin’ human on my tail, Drag Strip thought as the silver Mustang moved over into the other lane and rode up alongside him. Drag’s hologram driver looked over at the young flesh sack who was apparently trying to goad him into a street race. A street race? This squishy creature must think I’m Smokescreen. I’m a professional not some wretched...

“Come on! Let’s see what you’ve got!” The human yelled over to the yellow Stunticon, interrupting his train of thought.

Drag Strip’s hologram expressed no reaction at first as the former racer considered showing this human who was the real king of the highways. What could it hurt? Just as long as there’s no witnesses like ol’ Motorhead said. The fake driver then nodded in acceptance of the young fleshling’s challenge and before he knew it the Mustang had zoomed ahead, leaving the Dodge Viper in the dust.

Not for long, Drag Strip thought as he gunned his engines and raced off after the meat sack. It didn’t take but a few astroseconds to catch up to the inferior automobile, the likes of which permeated this planet. It was no match for the Stunticon’s advanced technology, after all. As a result, Drag easily overtook the Mustang, putting a considerable distance between himself and the filthy human who thought he could beat the great former Cybertronian Raceway champion.

Once Drag Strip had driven over a narrow bridge, he applied his breaks suddenly and allowed himself to spin around until he was facing in the opposite direction. The headlights of the silver Ford Mustang were now directly in front of him, growing brighter with each passing astrosecond. As the human vehicle started across the bridge at a high rate of speed, the Dodge Viper sped forward, tires screeching as he aimed to play a little game of robo-chicken.

No witnesses, Drag Strip thought as he came within inches of a collision before the Mustang swerved to avoid him and plunged off the side of the bridge and into the water below. Drag drove up to the edge and scanned the river beneath him as the human vehicle sank to the bottom. There were no signs of life anywhere and it would take a while before the authorities even knew there had been an accident here let alone what had caused it. By then, he and his Stunticon brethren would be long gone from this area.

Just then, another pair of headlights appeared, startling the yellow racer from his victory. Fortunately, this time it was only Breakdown, who had managed to catch up to him. “Hey, Breakdown, what’s shaking? You missed all the fun. I just drowned a meat sack. Don’t worry, though, there were no witnesses just as the boss-bot said.” Drag Strip chuckled as he backed away from the edge of the bridge and then drove across to the other side. It was there when Drag noticed that just down the street was one of the local gas stations the humans used to refill their vehicles. It was dark and appeared to be closed for the night by the looks of things. “Hey, follow me. I think I might have found some fuel.”

Not waiting for Breakdown to follow his lead, Drag Strip zoomed down the road until he had pulled into the Exxon station. He set his scanners to detect whatever fuel was left in the underground tanks beneath the asphalt. As luck would have it, one was halfway full while the other had about a quarter left to spare. “Jackpot!” The yellow Stunticon replied as he then opened a comm line to Octane:

>>”Hey, Oc! This is Drag Strip. I’ve located some fuel for your tanks! Just follow my signal and you’ll find me in no time.”<<

Spavinaw State Park, Oklahoma – Road 20/82

The white and blue Lamborghini sped off after Drag Strip as soon as the former racer took off down the highway and on toward a nearby town. He was able to keep up until he decided to slow his speed in case there was one of those annoying human authority figures in one of those vehicles with the lights. What did they call them? Police? Yeah, that was it.

Breakdown kept his scanners on high just in case he wouldn’t be able to spot a specific fuel source with his own eyes. Plus it gave him an odd sense of security in case there was actually someone, or something watching him.

A few minutes passed when Breakdown here the familiar sound of Drag Strip’s engine growing louder. The paranoid mech sped up and finally spotted the yellow racer facing the wrong direction. Breakdown let out an annoyed sigh when he heard Drag Strip call out to him.

“Did it gurgle and try to swim?”

Before he got his answer Drag Strip noticed a gas station just up the road. Breakdown followed suit and pulled alongside his Stunticon brethren in the Exxon lot.

“I don’t feel right, Drag. Got this weird feeling like someone’s watchin’, ya know?”

Road 82, Oklahoma

A lone Harley-Davidson rider sped towards north in the pitch black darkness of the night. Having passed Langley only moments ago, the road had finally been free to ignore those annoying speed limits that most definitely were made for lesser people than one Tyler Smiths. As far as he was concerned, he was above the law, a true bad ass. Yeah, it was only matter of time now before he was in the big leagues. Member of the big time biker clubs like Son of Silence or maybe even the notorious Bandidos.

Tyler's dreams about his future exploits were interrupted by back lights of yet another stupid trucker appearing in the horizon. The last truck he has passed by had been some kind of a f***ing psycho. The damned Kenworth T-600 tanker semi had clearly tried to push him off the road, only his experience with his bike had saved him as he had been pushed on the tarmac alongside the road. He really had showed the f***er later by making a high speed pass that the truck was not able to match. Hell, he had sent some bullet flying at big rig too, though he was uncertain whether he had hit. Nevertheless, the tanker had not given him anymore trouble.

This new truck he was catching up on he was going to humiliate even more so. Still seething from his endeavor with the tanker, Tyler accelerated his bike to speed of roughly 80 miler per hour and began his by pass. He quickly passed the gray three axle trailer and reached the truck cab. One of those new Navistar Internation LoneSTARs with sleeper cab - colored black with purple and chrome finishes. Not too bad for a big rig, Tyler thought as looked at the truck. He was even able to read a quote written on the cab... 'These wheels are made for crushing.' Oh c'mon, what kind of a nut job wrote something like that on his damn truck Tyler thought as his gaze turned from the rig to the speed-o-meter of his bike. The hell? He was going like 100 mph and the truck was at the exact same spot in comparison to him it had been ever since he had reached the cab. Both confused and angered by this, Tyler hit full throttle on his Harley. With his speed rising to 170 mph he was certain the truck would soon be a spot in a mirror. A quick look to right almost made his jaw drop. The rig was there and it was actually slowly but surely beginning to leave him behind.

That was not a normal truck. Even with speed limiter removed a big rig was not going to go that fast, it had to have a rigged engine or something. It didn't matter. No trucker made fun of Tyler f***ing smith. Pulling his desert eagle from his side, Tyler aimed his gun on the rig's rear tires and fired. Nothing, not a single tire had burst. In shock the biker fired several more bullet at the rig without no apparent damage. Then it was all too late for Tyler Smith as the rig suddenly steered on his lane and connected with his bike. An ominous ear shattering bellow about disrespecting the King of the Road followed but Tyler's brains barely registered it. The last thing he felt was flying across the air towards a tree face first.

>>"We hear you Drag. It was about time. We'll be there in a moment."<< Motormaster boomed in response to Drag Strip's communique instead of Octane who had been the real target of the racer's message. Blocking Octane's message was to expected for Motormaster gained sadistic pleasure for every chance he got to make the fueler feel he was nothing in comparison to the leader of the Stunticons.

Not much later Motormaster pulled over to the gas station Drag was waiting and positioned his massive bulk between the target fuel source and the station diner. Only minute or too later, a Kenworth T-600 tanker semi pulled next to the Stunticon commander. A tentacle like hose with a drill at its tip emerged from Octane's tank and sunk through the pavement into the fuel tank below.

>>"Drained, processed into energon and storaged. Still room for more energon."<< Octane informed the others after no more time spent than refueling of a truck cab would take.

>>"Then let's stop wasting time and move on."<< Motormaster growled in response and rolled back to the main road with Octane following closely behind. >>"Dead, Drag and Breakdown on the move! Find us a new target further along the way towards El Dorado! And it better not be alongside this particular road! Wildrider! Burn that hut of the meatsags into cinder after we have gained some distance on it. I'd hate to leave the fleshbags without a memento."<<

As for Tyler Smith the last image of the biker would likely be found in the news tomorrow, his mangled Harley in the background and his grotesque remains being covered by a sheet of cloth in the center of it all.

Interstate 82--Oklahoma

Wildrider had gunned his engines as soon as the Casseticons had climbed in to their seats, slamming the door, tires squealing as he took off down the highway through the vast, Oklahoma wildnerness and farmland.

Inside the vehicle, he adjusted his audio bandwidth to find some local hard rock station and cranked up the volume. Good driving music. Good anything music, as far as Wildrider was concerned. These fleshlings shattered even easier than an energon cube, but they had made some good strides in terms of their entertainment and culture. Wildrider could get used to the place for that reason alone.

For right now though, the plan was to cause a little chaos, without making it blatantly obvious what they were doing. Those mission parameters were probably going to be the hardest for Wildrider, but there was something about the looming presence of Motormaster that usually helped to keep his wilder tendencies in check. He indulged himself a little, pushing his speed well past the limits that the little meatsacks had posted on white signs alongside the road while Motormaster had his fun with some fleshie biker.

It was only when his internal systems picked up a basic human radar scanning system a few kilometers ahead that Wildrider finally started to slow down. He had hit the limit just as they approached the “Powerball: 124 million” sign where a local law enforcement officer had been subtly parked nearby. Wildrider was tempted, but he did nothing to warrant the meatbag official’s attention.

They didn’t have to drive very far out of the boundaries of the Spavinaw state park before the lights of a Conoco-Phillips station and an adjoining diner came clearly in to view. Not even a few hundred yards away saw a small fuel storage unit, surrounded by what appeared nothing more than a chain-link metal fence. Really?

“These fleshbags were so unprepared for the likes of us, I almost feel bad,” Wildrider chuckled as he pulled in to the gas station. A few local teenagers who were standing near the exterior entrance of the gas station inhaling some sort of smoke sticks took notice of the car. One of them punched another in the shoulder and pointed in the direction of the shiny, black Ferrari.

Octane had pulled in and taken care of business.

"Now that was a ride!"

When the message came through that he was going to be allowed to torch the place, the Stunticon terrorist could barely contain his abject glee.

"This orn just gets better and better."

Exxon Gas Station – Road 20/82

Drag Strip waited patiently near the gas pumps as Breakdown was the first to arrive. The nervous Stunticon asked if the meat sack had made any sounds as it drowned in the river. Drag chuckled at this notion before answering his comrade. “No, I heard no noise coming from the dying insect. He never made it out of his vehicle for me to hear anything audible. Unfortunately, I can only imagine the fleshling’s last fleeting moments before dying. Thankfully, I do have a pretty good imagination!” The former racing champion laughed harder now before hearing Breakdown’s follow up comment. “What doesn’t feel right? And who could be watching us, those meat bags at the diner over there? Who cares? What are they going to do to us? Stop worrying so much and enjoy yourself for once!”

Moments later, Motormaster responded to Drag Strip’s communiqué and soon afterward both he and Octane pulled into the station. The triplechanger wasted no time in sucking the fuel out of the underground tanks and converting it into energon within his own vast reservoir. The Stunticon Commander then issued further orders to locate a new target along their way towards El Dorado, but not along the same highway they were currently on.

“Come on, Breakdown! Your heard the boss,” Drag Strip said to the white Lamborghini as he pulled out of the gas station at the same time Wildrider had arrived to incinerate the location once the rest of them had left the area. The yellow Dodge Viper headed down 20/82 and soon turned off onto another back road, heading north towards the Oklahoma state border. His onboard sensors scanned the darkened street ahead, looking for both a new source of fuel and keeping a close optic out for any of the meat sack policing vehicles. The last thing he needed was to get pulled over and have to talk his way out of a traffic ticket. Then he’d likely have to talk his way out of another beating at the hands of Motormaster for drawing too much attention to himself. Of course, the human germs will have to catch me first! Drag thought as he sped away into the blackness ahead.

Municipal Airport - Near Oklahoma/Kansas Border

Two breems later, Drag Strip came across a small municipal airport that appeared to be closed down for the night. He pulled up to the fence that surrounded the field and widened the range of his scanners to cover the most ground possible. The yellow Stunticon soon located a number of fuel storage tanks at the far end of the runway. They were filled up to the brim with delicious gasoline. Drag quickly opened a comm line to Motormaster and Octane: >>”I’ve found a new fuel source at a local airport. The facility is closed down for the night so we'll be able to steal the fuel without attracting any attention. I’m sending you the coordinates now.”<<