The Energon Pub

Corridors

”Don’t know. Everyone else basically got deployed. Then again we weren’t asked to watch for the ship either. And quite frankly I don’t feel like sitting in the lounge or fighting holograms. You tell me.”

Weirdwolf brought his hand to his chin and stroked at the bottom of his faceplate, looking up with a puzzled expression as if the ceiling had their answer printed above for them.

“Hmmm true that is.” The tracker responded as he shifted to his lupine alt mode, his chassis shaking in a manner similar to how an actual dog would try and shake water of its body. “Perhaps to Shockwave or in charge someone a visit we pay? A task given there or maybe deployment see we?”

Upper Corridors

Well so much for seeing some action, yet again. Even with Megatron back and the increase in activity, once again the Constructicons were put back in charge of cleaning up everyone else’s mess. Long Haul picked up a couple of replacement girders needed to reinforce the structural destruction from Megatron’s rampage and brought them over to Mixmaster’s side.

“Where you want’em?” The transporter asked, his tone not masking his sour attitude.

”Yeah? You don’t want us to break his cover though. An infiltration mission right? So no bouncing. We need a shuttle to enter without Autobots spotting and alternative modes that fit the mission. I haven’t really looked into fleshling war zones but my boys are going to stick out from surroundings like klaxons with their flashy sports car modes.”

Shockwave sat in conscious silence for a few moments before holding up his hand to signal a halt to Motormaster' and the Stunticons' progress in extricating themselves from the surgical suite.

"Override. New imperative. Your unit and Scrapper's will assist Razorclaw's in investigating the presence of ore-13. If the element is discovered, we cannot surrender it to Autobots. We will need to construct an outpost and secure it. This is your new mission," Shockwave said, looking to both Motormaster and Scrapper.

Just as Motormaster was about to start whipping his Stunticons into action, Shockwave went and overrode his earlier command. Uncharacteristic indecision from the logic driven walking computer. The Stunticon leader could only wonder if Razorclaw had rattled Shockwave’s circuits far harder than they had thought when the special unit alliance ousted the leadership of the Decepticons from the cyclops.

"Override. New imperative. Your unit and Scrapper's will assist Razorclaw's in investigating the presence of ore-13. If the element is discovered, we cannot surrender it to Autobots. We will need to construct an outpost and secure it. This is your new mission," Shockwave said, looking to both Motormaster and Scrapper.

Motormaster merely shrugged. A mission was a mission. The Stunticon brute gave a passing thought to the fact that the mission included Shockwave sending three of the four teams that had rebelled against him to a same position where he could easily annihilate them from the orbit. But it was just that, a thought. He doubted Shockwave held grudges the way he did. It was after all, illogical. Particularly as all three teams were more useful for the Decepticons alive than dead. And the area they were being sent to? A quick search to human databases revealed a region not much different from Syria. It was yet another fleshling powder keg. With Congolese government soldiers and militia groups fighting each other and occasionally even clashing with Rwandan military as well. Much more interesting place to be than the Thanatos for sure.

”Suits me.” Motormaster rumbled, rising up and turning towards his Stunticons. ”You runts still needs to pick new alternative modes. Some rugged off road vehicles to operate gravel roads littered with pot holes. Meet me in half a cycle in the hangar.”

Breakdown fidgeted around with his hands as the higher ranked mechs bantered about what to do. Finally Shockwave decided on an appropriate mission. Fortunately, they were gonna get more disguised alt modes. But unfortunately, that meant.. Stealth. Breakdown would rather hide in one spot and just pray to Primus that nobody finds him, but that's not exactly how a mission worked. Breakdown lowered his optics at the thought.

”You runts still needs to pick new alternative modes. Some rugged off road vehicles to operate gravel roads littered with pot holes. Meet me in half a cycle in the hangar.”

"O-okay 'Motors! S-sure!"

Breakdown exited the lab for the Med Bay with (hopefully) the others to get his alt mode reformatted.



Entering the room, Breakdown felt odd about coming to this point of the ship simply to change his alt mode. Maybe Shockwave had some CR chambers in his lab, but Breakdown didn't like asking questions. Especially to a mech with no real face. Too intimidating. No, Breakdown preferred the Med Bay.

Stepping in a CR chamber, Breakdown then went through all the alt mode options. Many of them were too bulky or thin for his body type. And some of them he thought just looked ugly (though his gaudy color scheme proved he didn't have much sense of style). Eventually he came across one he liked. It was called a XC2V FLYPmode. A very expensive military vehicle, so he hoped it wouldn't be too noticeable, but it was the right size, fast, and could really take a beating. So, that's the alt mode he chose.

Breakdown then went into sleep mode as his body was being modified. His shape bent and reformed as small lasers and claws replaced and cut panels to size all over his form. His smaller Lambo wheels were then replaced by larger and bulkier wheels with deep treading.

Breakdown opened his optics as the CR chamber opened once again. His body made buzzing machinery sounds as everything spun and clicked into place. He looked down at his arms and noticed his once "squarer" forearms were now covered in armored panels with bolts, and a sandy tan color. His hands were a dark green.

"Huh.." Breakdown said simply as he got up. He then walked to a nearby mirror and checked himself over. His once square chassis was now more angular and filled out like his arms. His helmet was now dark green. His once purple optics were now yellow. His light red face was now a muddier blood red. The blue on him was replaced by dark green and black, and the white with tan. And what he noticed most, was the giant wheels on his shoulders. He spun his shoulder wheels happily and made a flexing motion.

"Heh, n-not bad! Wow, I should've known the change from race car to military ATV would be this significant!"

Now Breakdown just wondered what the others would look like. Maybe they all would look even better than the Combaticons! Well, probably not.. But who knew!

"Maybe I'll keep this alt mode for a while. At least until we.. go into more.. urban areas.." Breakdown then shivered when he remembered how gross fleshlings were.

Corridors/Refueling Bar

Oil Slick had decided against returning to his laboratory, choosing instead to roam the corridors of the Thanatos. As much as he enjoyed watching the others move cower when he came near them, he barely noticed their antics. Even the yellow Seeker tripping over his own feet and into another didn’t amuse him.

No, such things weren’t his concern at the moment, not while his quest to explore the possibilities of the affliction the Fallen had cause and what had infected Lord Megatron. Thunderwing had said they were separate instances, and as much as he respected the warlord’s methodology and thoroughness, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was a link that was somehow missed. And if there wasn’t, what had caused it could either be a powerful weapon or their greatest foe.

Whichever didn’t really concern Oil Slick as much as the potential discovery. What did it matter if others were lost in this endeavor? What mattered was the science, the breakthrough, and prestige such a discovery would mean. Being the one to acquire an ability both sides would kill to have would lift him into the upper echelon of scientists, Decepticon and Autobot alike.

But he’d been thwarted at every turn thus far. Thunderwing had listened to him patiently, despite seemingly brushing him aside and dismissing his ideas. Or was that what the warlord intended for him to think?

I was a fool to tell him so much. And I may compound that by communicating with Shockwave, he thought, weighing the options he had before him.

He had accessed the ships database during his wandering, not probing deeper than into the files one of his vocation would read. The files he needed were heavily encrypted, and though he understood why, it was a hindrance to his current agenda simply because it involved holding a similar conversation he’d had with Thunderwing with Shockwave. Out of the two, he’d doubted Shockwave would be willing to… aid him in his endeavor without taking a larger portion of the credit for himself.

The mech may be mostly logical, but there was a spark brimming with ambition within him. Of that, il Slick was certain. How then to go about this?

While lost in thought, he turned the corner and was surprised to find himself at the refueling bar. An interesting location, if a bit too quaint for his own taste. One thing that was abundant inside was potential test subjects.

Knowing inspiration happened at the strangest of moments, he decided to enter.

A Vehicon stopped so suddenly at seeing Oil Slick that his compatriot behind him walked into him. For the first time since leaving Thunderwing’s laboratory, Oil Slick smiled behind his yellow face shield.

He stepped forward, scissoring his fingers as he neared the Vehicons, the turned away just before brushing against them. He then set his optics on others in attendance. Most noticed him and talked among themselves, others didn’t or chose to ignore him. It was so tempting to casually drop a vial of corrosive acid that would vaporize and devour everything within twenty meters. It would be so simple, yet it wouldn’t gain him anything but reprimand and imprisonment if he was lucky. As Thunderwing had so graciously pointed out: Megatron doesn’t look kindly on the loss of troops or materials without a worthy gain.

Still, he felt the twinges of an idea forming in the base of his processor. Perhaps, interacting with these… subjects would be beneficial after all?

He walked across the large opening by the entrance, taking in everything he could and enjoying the squirming some of the mechs lounging around. A small group watching a holovid caught his attention.

Yes, I believe I have it. Without hesitating, he crossed the short distance and clapped the mech on the back, then turned and walked away, the shrill cries of the Seeker panicking over the possibility of something corrosive having been passed through the gesture.

Even when showing good will, I am vilified. Oil Slick chuckled as he paused to send a message to the one Decepticon left he felt could help him. He mulled over how best to approach Shockwave, and decided the direct approach was required.

>>Oil Slick to Shockwave, As I am sure you are aware, I am researching weaponizing the force that had afflicted out beloved Lord Megatron. I am interested in viewing your findings or recordings of the endeavor, if possible. Also, any medical files you have for Darkride and Drag Strip would be appreciated.”<<

If this didn’t work, he would find it through another means. Some sacrifices were warranted.

“Hmmm true that is.” The tracker responded as he shifted to his lupine alt mode, his chassis shaking in a manner similar to how an actual dog would try and shake water of its body. “Perhaps to Shockwave or in charge someone a visit we pay? A task given there or maybe deployment see we?”

Skullcruncher shrugged again. This really wasn’t one of his more idea rich moments. Not that he was even known for overabundance of creativity anyway. That was more of Weirdwolf’s thing anyway, the aspiring artist that the wolf was.

”I guess.” The crocodilian Decepticon grumbled. He wasn’t too keen on going to ask Shockwave for anything to do either. For Shockwave and entertainment hardly walked hand to hand. ”Though with my luck the old one optic is going to make use just haul his equipment. Again.”

((OOC-Nudging until the owners resume the wheel.))

Shockwave's Laboratory

”You runts still needs to pick new alternative modes. Some rugged off road vehicles to operate gravel roads littered with pot holes. Meet me in half a cycle in the hangar.”

"Hoo-ah!" Wildrider shouted, practically ripping the restraints off and running out of the laboratory like he had just broken out of a cell in Garrus-9.

"Once more, unto death," Dead End sighed as he too got up from his berth and and began to internally cycle through alt modes that would suit the terrain that Motormaster had described.

[Mess Hall to Corridors]

Although he was spending his time with the company of a funny green bugger and a feline femme fatale, Offroad felt like he could be doing something better and more productive with his time. “Excuse me, lady and gentleman, but I must get going. It was a pleasure meeting you,” he said, suave and confident as ever.

The mess hall was quickly left behind as the green-faced devil found his feet moving through the corridor. Right up ahead was Shockwave’s laboratory, and some Stunticons seemed to be walking out of it. Interesting. Perhaps they were given a gift of the season.

Wildrider was definitely the same he had always been. A mech full of energy and mayhem. Quite the bundle of joy. He brushed past Offroad's shoulder plating on his way out, causing a sharp turn of the head from the daredevil, alongside a smirk planted on his face. "Easy there, 'Rider. Hold onto those engines. You might need them later."

Right behind Wildrider was Dead End, looking as depressed as ever. Nihilistics. A pity that his kind are incapable of appreciating the abstract beauties and currents of life.

Truly, an interesting group, he thought to himself as his vagabond feet carried him elsewhere along the ship.

Shockwave's Laboratory

As Motormaster and Scrapper's units prepared for their departure, another transmission came through. This one from Decepticon Oil Slick. Once the transmission was complete, Shockwave's systems gave a thorough review of Oil Slick's tech spec.

>>Oil Slick to Shockwave, As I am sure you are aware, I am researching weaponizing the force that had afflicted out beloved Lord Megatron. I am interested in viewing your findings or recordings of the endeavor, if possible. Also, any medical files you have for Darkride and Drag Strip would be appreciated.”<<

>>"Declarative: request denied. Unauthorized access. Rank and function insufficient."<<

Shockwave’s Laboratory

Motormaster wrote:”You runts still needs to pick new alternative modes. Some rugged off road vehicles to operate gravel roads littered with pot holes. Meet me in half a cycle in the hangar.”

“You got it, Boss,” Drag Strip replied back to Motormaster as the yellow racer got up off his berth. He didn’t feel much different, maybe a little. The idea of combining with his fellow Stunticons, especially ol’ motorhead, wasn’t exactly appealing. Still, the power they would yield would be immense. Hopefully, they would fare better than Devastator. Although, considering who his comrades were, Drag doubted that very much.

As Drag Strip exited the lab, he turned and looked over at Offroad, Dead End and Wildrider. “Come on, guys. We don’t want to keep the boss waiting around. Breakdown’s already way ahead of us.” And with that said, the former race champion transformed into his Dodge Viper alt mode and zoomed down to the med bay.

Medical Bay

Drag Strip arrived less than a breem later and returned to his robot mode. Entering the med bay, he found his way to the nearest CR chamber and accessed the unit's control console. The yellow mech quickly searched through the database of Earthen alt modes until he had found something that would suit his size and form well – a Local Motors Rally Fighter. It certainly could travel off road like Motormaster wanted and it still had that racing aesthetic which Drag Strip adored.

Once his new alt mode was inputted into the computer, the former racer entered the CR chamber and allowed the door to close behind him. He then rested his head against the back of the upright berth as the chamber went to work on his frame.

Corridors

“Come on, guys. We don’t want to keep the boss waiting around. Breakdown’s already way ahead of us.”

Wildrider skidded to a halt, heels squealing and sparking against the metal decking, almost falling forward, but his outstretched actuators crashed into the floor before his face-plate did, preventing a tumble that would’ve sent him to the CR chamber for other reasons. He couldn’t let Drag Your Aft go without having to say something.

Turning around to grin at Drag strip, he said, “Can never settle for second, can ya, Draggy?”

Then he bolted off again. And nearly into Offroad, their shoulder-plates grazing as Wildrider ran past, merely avoiding another accident that would’ve sent him to the CR chamber for yet another reason. Two astroseconds out of surgery and already two potential mishaps. He didn’t choose the Stunticon life, the Stunticon life chose him.

“Easy there, ‘Rider. Hold onto those engines. You might need them later.”

Engines. Later. Easy.

Wildrider narrowed his optics, as if solving a highly difficult mathematical equation in his core processor. Why was he running when he could be driving?

Driving: faster.

Running: slower.

Wildrider: no answer.

As though confirming this realisation was in fact a grand idea—and had to be seen to be believed—Drag Strip sped on by. That settled it. Following suit, he transformed to his alternate mode and peeled away.

“Later’s no good, Roadster,” he shouted as he raced off. “I need ‘em now! Catch ya!”

Medical Bay

Wildrider wasted no time. Like no time. The instant his optics spotted a free CR chamber, he briskly walked over to it, pressed a zillion buttons on the control panel, jumped up and down while the chamber was doing its thing—activating this and that as it processed his instructions—kept jumping up and down until the door hissed open, jumped inside, watched as the door hissed shut, and waited for his new alternate form to replace his current one.

Mess Hall

Shockwave wrote: >>"Declarative: request denied. Unauthorized access. Rank and function insufficient."<<

Oil Slick smiled, despite having his latest attempt thwarted. Never underestimate a being of logic. They never see the potential of greatness without their equations.

Still, he was grateful to have the scientist reply to him. Too many would merely brush him aside to a subordinate…

Oh, how much of Thunderwing’s interest was feigned and for Shockwave’s files?”

He had every right to be upset, but he’d gone to Thunderwing expecting something underhanded at some point. Were they truly working together on this? He had no way of knowing. What he did know was he was most likely the focal point of reference for at least one of them,

Nothing he hadn’t expected.

And nothing had changed. He was where he’d started this endeavor, but with a greater understanding of the secrecy he’d need if he intended to press his research further.

So, my rank is too low, Shockwave? We shall see how long that remains, shall we?

Turning, he casually crossed the remaining space to the exit, then stepped back into the corridor.

He had more thinking and planning to do, then he’d return for a couple of test subjects. But first, he intended to go back to his chemicals for a time. Nothing helped him to focus on a problem like working with the chemicals he was best known for.

One thing was for sure was he’d need to communicate with Drag Strip at some point. First, he needed to figure out how to approach the egomaniac. After his dealings so far, he didn’t know if he had it in him.

He had a couple of ideas he was sure would lead to interesting results before he approached the Stunticon. It would also allow Shockwave or Thunderwing to grow bored with his experimentation in time. It may even gain him the interest of the two top scientists in the process.

Yes, this was the better way. But first, one more attempt to show he’d tried every option available to him before disappearing into the bowels of the ship.

>>Oil Slick to Drag Strip, I require your invaluable aid in an experiment. Do you mind coming to my laboratory for a brief scan?<<

There, no one can say he didn’t try his best. When this lead turned him down, he would revert to his normal, boring, uneventful experimentation until he found the perfect opportunity.

Arms crossed over his chest, Motormaster stood in the Thanatos’ hangar bay next to a shuttle that was being prepared for the Stunticons by a number of Vehicons. Not only had he had to pick a new alternate mode of an off road military truck which seriously cramped his style - the other Stunticons were apparently wasting time again choosing their modes. And they were late. Always late. Every slagging time when he set them time limit and wasn’t there to whip them forwards.

And it infuriated the King of the Roads. They were all going to suffer for this. Each and every one of them. Every single one.

Corridors

With their new orders having been given, Scrapper and Hook waited for Motormaster and his little band of crazies to take their leave before they too followed suit.

"I'm beyond curious to see how that combiner functions in the field," Hook said.

"You and me both," Scrapper agreed as he opened a comm to the other Constructicons. >>"Scrapper to Bonecrusher, Long Haul, Mixmaster and Scavenger--head to the alpha hangar. We have a new mission. I'll brief you on our way down to the mudball."<<
___

Mixmaster looked up as a new comm came through, this one from their unit leader.

"Ooh!" Mixmaster exclaimed, clapping his hands eagerly. "Back to the mud-mud-mudball! Lots to build down there. Better than being stuck up here!"

Medical Bay

Drag Strip stepped out of the CR chamber once the alt mode cycle had finished. He gazed down at his new, bulkier appearance and couldn’t help but smile. “Not bad,” the former race champion muttered to himself. “Not a look I’d like to keep after this mission is finished, but I can live with it for the time being.”

Wanting to waste no more time, the yellow Stunticon headed for the exit, stopping in his tracks when he noticed Breakdown admiring himself in a nearby mirror. “Well, that’s a different look for you, Breakdown. Suits you. Heh.” Drag Strip then checked his internal chronometer and realized how much time had passed. “Frag. We gotta get going down to the hanger, Breaks. Motormaster’s going to give it to us good for being late!”

Drag then rushed out of the med bay, assuming Breakdown and perhaps the other Stunticons would be close behind him. The yellow mech transformed into his brand new Rally Fighter alternate form and zoomed down towards the hangar. As he went he received a transmission from the resident chemical specialist:

Oil Slick wrote:>>Oil Slick to Drag Strip, I require your invaluable aid in an experiment. Do you mind coming to my laboratory for a brief scan?<<

>>"Sorry, Oil Slick. No can do. I'm already late for a mission. Maybe when I return if Motormaster allows it."<<

Hangar

Arriving at his destination not too long after leaving the medical bay, Drag Strip returned to his robot mode and quickly entered the hangar. At first glance, he didn’t see Motormaster anywhere. Oh, thank Primus, Drag thought to himself with a look of relief on his faceplate. I made it before the boss had…ah fraggit!

His thoughts were cut abruptly short as Drag Strip finally noticed the angry-looking Stunticon Commander looming large near one of the shuttle crafts on the far side of the bay. Motormaster’s arms were crossed and he appeared to be madder than usual. Of course, that was nothing new. The self-proclaimed King of the Roads always looked ticked off and he didn’t require a reason to look that way or to beat the living slag out of his own subordinates.

At least I’m the first one here. That should count for something, Drag Strip reasoned internally as he then let out a deep sigh and walked over towards his ominous unit commander, hoping that whatever punishment Motormaster gave him and the others would be quick and relatively painless.

Corridors

[quote="Drag Strip"] >>"Sorry, Oil Slick. No can do. I'm already late for a mission. Maybe when I return if Motormaster allows it."<<[/quote[

Despite the news, Oil Slick smiled beneath his yellow face shield. He’d expected as much, but at least Drag Strip seemed amicable. I wonder if he’s as crazy as the other Stunticons, or doesn’t recognize me? No matter, he though with a low chuckle.

Out of curtesy, he replied back, >>Thank you, Drag Strip. I’ll look forward to seeing you then if you have time.<<

Closing the channel, Oil Slick turned his focus back to his plans now that he’d exhausted that line inquiry. Thunderwing’s words about working in the shadows came back to him one more time as he thought over the mechs he’d seen in the mess hall. There were a few minor officers in attendance that would be missed, but the dozens of Seekers and Vehicons no one cared about was the majority of the crowd.

Well, he cared.

And as long as he didn’t get too greedy, one or two, maybe even three, wouldn’t be missed. A few were always disappearing whether through accidents or other means. Over the vorns, Oil Slick had a hand in a few such instances. After all, if one was dissolved in acid, there wasn’t a carriage to be used as evidence. Of course, with Thunderwing, and most likely Shockwave, watching him now, he’d have to be careful. Perhaps, it was time to find an assistant. Someone no one knew of, someone that showed great promise, and, of course, someone that wouldn’t be missed.

Laboratory accidents happened all the time, after all. Yes, he would be sure to scan through the Thanatos’ database for potential candidates when he returned to the privacy of his laboratory. Then he would begin a few benign experiments to show his new assistant’s willingness and aptitude for science. Maybe, if he was lucky, the mech would provide him the breakthrough he needed before Drag Strip and the others returned.

Things were about to become… interesting.

Not too surprisingly it was Drag Strip who managed to make his way to the hangar first out of the missing four Stunticons. It was in his nature after all to compete in any possible situation given to him. Though that hardly excluded the former racer from excessive tardiness when the egoistic prima donna felt like it. Which was way too often.

”And you pride yourself the racer. The fastest. The best. Hah.” Motormaster spat out venomously as Drag Strip made his way towards him. ”You’re a fraggin’ joke. A damn loser.”

”You can’t even make it to rendezvous zone in time.” The malevolent bully of a unit leader kept mocking the former participant of many Cybertron’s most famous races like Iacon 5000 and the Ibex Cup. ”No wonder Blurr always had your number on the circuits.”

”I wonder if you had had it in you to win anything without me and the boys fixing the races.” He added as an insult to injury with a devilish grin forming on his face as he stared the yellow ’con down.

Bonecrusher chuckled at Longhaul, who seemed to not appreciate having to work again. "Ya know I'd help y'all, but looks like Megatron already took care of the demolition for me!"

Seeing nobody was laughing, Bonecrusher said, "Aww come on! It was funny!"

>>"Scrapper to Bonecrusher, Long Haul, Mixmaster and Scavenger--head to the alpha hangar. We have a new mission. I'll brief you on our way down to the mudball."<<

"Aww, well! Looks like 'yer gonna have your much-needed fun after all, Haully! To the mud-ball!"

Bonecrusher transformed and drove off as fast as he could in his bulldozer mode, shouting, "YEEHAW!!!"

Medical Bay

“Well, that’s a different look for you, Breakdown. Suits you. Heh. Frag. We gotta get going down to the hanger, Breaks. Motormaster’s going to give it to us good for being late!”

Breakdown's optics narrowed. Did the new look really suit him? Or was the yellow racer just saying that?

Hmmmm.....

He could mull that over on the way. The only thing worse than his own uncertainty were Motormaster's fists.
___

Alpha Hangar

Breakdown skidded into the massive structure just as a booming voice rang out clearly.

”...Blurr always had your number on the circuits. I wonder if you had had it in you to win anything without me and the boys fixing the races.”

Ok. Belittling Drag Strip. Maybe not as bad a reaction as Breakdown thought. He transformed and made a bee-line for the shuttle nearest to their brutish commander.
___

Scrapper and Hook entered just behind one of the little Stunticon nutballs, still conversing over the possibilities for the war effort if Megatron could deploy an entire unit of gestalts.

"And what if they could coordinate in battle like the Combaticons?" Hook asked.

"Possibilities," Scrapper agreed. "Limitless possibilities."

[Hangar α]
The hangar seemed to be pretty empty, except for the Stunticon head honcho himself - Motormaster. Offroad had had his fair share of interactions with the Stunticon commander. A brute at heart, but a worthy commander nonetheless. He would make for a fascinating study, someday.

Slowly striding up towards him, he observed quickly that Motormaster’s subordinates had entered, and were being promptly berated. And so the subjugation begins. With a few swift steps, he brought himself closer to the Stunticons. “Greetings, Motormaster,” he began, rather charmingly, while slowly turning his gaze to the other Stunticons with a firm smirk planted on his devilish green face, “I see that you are… making preparations, per se. Something disturbing the peace of the moment?”

Of course, it was a rhetorical question. The construction greenies were pouring in after Breakdown had entered as well. This was no average gathering - they were getting decked to go somewhere.

Hangar

Motormaster wrote:”And you pride yourself the racer. The fastest. The best. Hah. You’re a fraggin’ joke. A damn loser. You can’t even make it to rendezvous zone in time. No wonder Blurr always had your number on the circuits. I wonder if you had had it in you to win anything without me and the boys fixing the races.”

Ah, yes, the punishment for his tardiness was to be insulted. Well, at least Motormaster hadn't immediately began beating the yellow racer within an inch of his lifecycle. Give it time though. The breem was young.

“Probably not,” Drag Strip replied sheepishly as he approached Motormaster, wanting so much to say the exact opposite but knowing that if he did the malevolent bully would likely destroy him.

Regardless, deep down Drag knew he wasn’t a loser no matter what his brutish leader said. Was it true that ol’ motorhead rigged some of the races? Sure. However, that couldn’t possibly be true for all of them. And comparing him to Blurr was like comparing a petro-rabbit with a cyber-slug. Most mechs couldn’t beat the likes of Blurr. He was the absolute best of the best. After all, he was called “Blurr” for a reason. Unless Blurr was having a bad cycle, it took a bit of rigging in order for anyone else to win a race. Drag didn’t feel all that bad about it to be honest.

Drag Strip then noticed that Breakdown had entered the hangar. Oh, thank Primus. Maybe Motormouth will lay into him now, the yellow Stunticon thought with another sigh.

Seriously?! This was it? Not a single counter argument? All he got out of Drag Strip was a sheepish probably not? Where was the fierce competitor that couldn’t deal with coming in second in the races or pretty much anything? The egoist with insatiable lust for victory? The same bot that took the Fallen’s offer to finally getting a chance of defeating those that he couldn’t defeat before – Motormaster himself included. Sure, Drag Strip had always feared him - Motormaster had no doubt about that, but at least he had had more spine before.

”You disgust me.” The Stunticon leader snarled, giving the yellow racer a shove towards the shuttle ramp. ”Get in.”

”You too Breakdown!” He barked, ”We don’t have the whole slagging day! You don’t think Soundwave isn’t watching us?! Listening to us?!” Motormaster fed Breakdown’s paranoia as Offroad approached him, ”You know he is!”

“Greetings, Motormaster,” he began, rather charmingly, while slowly turning his gaze to the other Stunticons with a firm smirk planted on his devilish green face, “I see that you are… making preparations, per se. Something disturbing the peace of the moment?”

”Quit the crap Offroad.” Motormaster thundered. He had utilized Offroad’s talents plenty of times in the past for bunch of jobs so he knew what the bot could do. And to be perfectly honest, if the other runts weren’t so damned distrustful of him – he’d probably be a Stunticon already.

”If you want in, get in.” The brute rumbled, ”You are probably better suited for the mission than these losers anyway.”

Hangar

As Scrapper and Hook approached Motormaster and the shuttle their teams would be sharing, the unit commander motioned for Hook to proceed aboard.

After a couple moments of awkward silence, Scrapper let out a small sigh.

"It would seem both of our teams are a bit chronally-challenged. Heh."

[Hangar]

Motormaster wrote:”If you want in, get in. You are probably better suited for the mission than these losers anyway.”

Offroad smirked. He’d had his moments with Motormaster before, and had grown to like the Stunticon commander’s style. Rough, perhaps not the most elegant, but effective. A mech of action, one could say.

“Very well. And I don’t suppose that they have come unprepared,” he said, aiming his optics at the Stunticons, “Taking their time to furnish out their chassis.”

As he started going up the ramp of the shuttle, he turned to Drag Strip and said to him, “I anticipate those wheels of yours to be adequate for the rough. Would be a shame if they skidded, heh.”

Hangar

A few kliks later, Scavenger came rolling into the hangar in his alt mode. To be fair, his alt mode was pretty slow but atleast it was reliably so, and so he made it to the get-together at last, and transformed back into his robot mode, his crane "tail" accidentally smacking into the blue and grey truck-former with the lemon colored face.

"Oh...I'm sorry. Didn't see you!", Scavenger said a little frantically. He loomed over the other bot, making sure he didn't have any scratches or anything. For being such a big, tall, and tough looking guy, the excavator-bot likely seemed awfully soft.