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Pacific Ocean

Astrotrain's primary headlight cut through the pitch blackness of the ocean. Every so often, it would catch the passing shadow of a large, strange creature and countless smaller ones.

”Park next to the Ultrax's airlock A-train. You're going to stay in this form unless something unexpected requires otherwise,” Motormaster ordered from within.

"Sure thing," the triple-changer responded. Eventually, the outline of the beleaguered ship came into view and the shuttle made directly for the airlock port. Coming to rest on the silty surface, Astrotrain connected himself to the Ultrax's airlock as ordered.

"Thanks for flying Astrotrain Air, the finest in Decepticon navigation services," the triple-changer quipped. What could he say? Shuttle duty was hardly the most exciting task in the world.

Astrotrain’s Cargo Hold

Wildrider fidgeted. He couldn’t not fidget. The silence was actually literally killing him. Okay, maybe not really…But it FELT like it. And then there was Motormaster’s more than a little malevolent stare. Directed right at him and Drag Strip. Since when did he deserve to be treated the same way as that traitor?! Wildrider held his tightly crossed arms with enough force to add in some new dents.

It was actually a relief when Motormaster broke the oppressive silence. Of course, what the boss had to say wasn’t actually that pleasant, and Wildrider knew the Stunticon tyrant wasn’t kidding or joking around when he said that. Other Cons might think that, but nope. He meant that one hundred and ten percent.

”Breakdown, Dead End – you are going to go in first and do an initial sweep over possible threats.”

“Wha-?!” Wildrider nearly bolted out of his seat, but managed to somehow contain himself. “But…But…boss!” He smashed his head against Astrotrain’s hull. The boss did that on purpose. Of course he did. He was trying to kill Wildrider with boredom. The terrorist wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. “Hrgh…”

Astrotrain’s Cargo Hold

Ahh, the Ultrax. It felt good to be home. Well, the closest thing to home except Cybertron. Breakdown had long come to appreciate the peculiarities of the Stunticons' scow. But it still did little to bring down his trademark paranoia down to manageable levels.

”Breakdown, Dead End – you are going to go in first and do an initial sweep over possible threats.”

Oh great. Him first? Just his luck.

"Exactly how sure are we that ol' Ulty hasn't been discovered and rigged with a bunch of explosives, just waiting for us to step foot aboard and trigger 'em all?" Breakdown asked as Astrotrain finished his connection to the airlock and the bay doors slid open. He then realized that Motormaster's orders had already answered his own question. They weren't sure at all.

Oh well. An explosion would be quick, right?

Breakdown huffed and motioned for Dead End to come with him into the now-connected airlock and hangar bay of the Ultrax.

Astrotrain’s Cargo Hold

”You two slaggers cause me more trouble during a one fraggin' deca-cycle than your brothers manage to combine for thorough a damned Quartex. Mess this up and I will have Astrotrain drop you both off to the Moon where you will have to survive for the next mega-cycle with whatever energon you manage to beg out of Octane here.”

Drag Strip had kept to himself during the trip down to the Ultrax. He said nothing to anyone as he didn’t want to incur any more taunts and certainly not the wrath of Motormaster. The yellow mech simply sat in his seat and kept his cranial unit down, optics glued to the floor. It wasn’t until the Stunticon Commander stood up and addressed him and Wildrider that Drag drew his attention away from the metallic surface beneath his feet and up to the large brute. The former race champion did not look Motormaster directly in the optics, however, but instead simply glanced up at his master’s chest plate before lowering his head once more. Drag still said nothing, of course. He just nodded his head in understanding. After everything that had happened with the Fallen, the ex-herald knew it was better to just remain silent.

”Park next to the Ultrax's airlock A-train. You're going to stay in this form unless something unexpected requires otherwise. Breakdown, Dead End – you are going to go in first and do an initial sweep over possible threats. And Knock-Out. You do your thing and do it fast. You won't like the alternative. Just saying.”

Ah, they were finally at the Ultrax, the rust bucket the Stunticons called home. How exactly they were supposed to get the frigate air-worthy again was anyone’s guess, but at least that was a problem for Knock-Out to figure out. After all, Motormaster’s minions were hardly engineers or repair technicians. Hell, they were barely loyal soldiers. Still, it was good to be back at the old homestead even if it was a dump.

This is where it happened, Drag Strip thought to himself as he looked towards the airlock as Wildrider flipped out and began banging his head against Astrotrain’s hull. The yellow racer ignored the terrorist as the recollection of his first encounter with the Fallen filled his processor. It had happened here on the Ultrax in one of the corridors. This was where the fiery demigod, in the form of Hot Rod, offered him the power to destroy millions, but especially the power to destroy Motormaster. That’s what Drag had really wanted and that’s what made him ultimately accept the offer. The rest was history.

Regardless, those memories were still very fresh in the former herald’s mind and he couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if he had said no, if his fear of Motormaster had outweighed his fear of the Fallen. Drag Strip probably would’ve died that day, destroyed by the Fallen, or perhaps he would’ve lived to see the fiery demigod chose someone else. Of course, there was never going to be someone else. The Fallen knew that just as the yellow racer knew that now. Drag was always going to say yes. The chance to kill Motormaster was one he could not pass up and if the yellow racer had it to do all over again, he would likely still accept the Fallen’s offer. He would just do things differently and target the Stunticon Commander immediately instead of wasting time and attacking a bunch of vehicons first. That was Drag’s true mistake.

However, that was all over with now and Drag Strip was back being an ordinary Stunticon under the oppressive leadership of Motormaster. His chance to rid himself of his brutish commander had come and gone and he had failed, thus suffering severe consequences for his actions. All the yellow racer could do now is remain silent and behave himself until things finally blew over. It would take a long while, but it would eventually happen. And maybe, just maybe, Drag would someday finally find a way to escape Motormaster’s tyranny.

Someday.

Astrotrain’s Cargo Hold

”Breakdown, Dead End – you are going to go in first and do an initial sweep over possible threats.”

"Oh Great... So it's a choice between getting mangled by violent decompression or just getting mangled by 'The King Of The Road'... Seems rather pointless." Dead End slouched a bit as he rested against a wall. It seemed like the situation just kept getting from bad to worse. It was always going to get worse.

Knowing his luck, it wouldn't even be fatal right away, he would probably be twisted up and left until starvation started to settle in as soon as the hull buckled. He could picture it now, that tightening of servos trying to leech out what energy they could to keep himself functioning, watching himself shut down one piece at a time. And what if they did find something?

There was so much wrong with this 'assignment' it seemed akin to a suicide mission. Maybe that was the point, they were disposable. It was clear that pairing him with Breakdown wasn't going to help. More than likely, something in the hull would give way after he shot it thinking that someone was sneaking up on them. Telling him to relax was a waste, but he'd have to keep an optical on the white and blue stunticon. He'd probably find some way to mess this up.

"So walk into the wreck that is under millions of units of pressure ready to implode, find something that is likely to kill us, and send a message out in our last moments of functioning to let you know. That about sum it up?"

The Ultrax... It was a showing that everything can fall from grace. Or in this case, Orbit. It's a carcass, and Motormaster wants to bring it back to life, universe only knows why or how. There was always hesitation, mostly because it was just going to be a moment to get yourself scrapped. What kind of thing lurking in the coridors calls the Ultrax home now?

Maybe the decompression wasn't such a bad option...

The Ultrax--Airlock

"Oh Great... So it's a choice between getting mangled by violent decompression or just getting mangled by 'The King Of The Road'... Seems rather pointless."

"That's pretty much always our choices, heh heh," Breakdown snickered, allowing himself to think about something other than the hundred-thousand ways they could possibly meet their end in the next breem alone. Decompression...explosion...implosion...impalement...the list just went on and on.

"So walk into the wreck that is under millions of units of pressure ready to implode, find something that is likely to kill us, and send a message out in our last moments of functioning to let you know. That about sum it up?"

"Yup," Breakdown nodded, walking deeper into the darkened ship. He found his way over to a wall console and fired up another notch of the secondary power the ship was currently functioning on. He then walked over to the Ultrax cargo bay exit. When it slid out of the way, there was a Vehicon holding an empty canister just on the other side.

"AGHHHHHHK!" Breakdown yelped in surprise. "Ahhha, um....yeah, this corridor's clear."

The Ultrax--Airlock

Watching Breakdown's sudden outburst of panic would almost amuse Dead End if it wasn't for the fore shadowing it was presenting. That yell echoed loudly, and he was pretty sure even Motormaster would hear that one given some time, and would probably kick both their tailpipes for delaying this further.

Walking by the Vehicon, he looked it over. It had ceased to function, looking at the dust on it Dead End could only imagine how long it had been shut down. Have they really been gone so long?

Shifting to his Car Mode, he turned on his headlights to give a better visual. This entire place seemed like some foreign maze, or one of those 'scare houses' humans tended to use in celebration.

Data started to poor in from the pings Dead End was setting out, 'listening' to the reverb, beginning the creation of the map of which sections of The Ultrax were still in usable condition.

"Well, isn't this just inconvenient. Corridor 8-4-B is collapsing, filled completely. Who knows how, but it's definitely hampers on the driving. Seems like the blast doors are on lock down."

Then he received a blip... One that moved. Something was in The Ultrax with them. "So now that the good news is out of the way, that bad news, we got movement. Seven-thirty-five distance at 22 degrees... Not sure of the verticality."

With that, engines revved, as so many earth cars would at a red light, that offer to race. "So, should we go see what the new room mate is?"

The Ultrax - Airlock

From within the dark confines of the Ultrax, a low rumble echoed. The clank of chains and footsteps reverberated toward Dead End and Breakdown. Something was coming. Something feral. Bestial. Something-

“Yo guys, bye guys!” Wildrider quipped quickly as he rocketed past the two downers of the Stunticons from behind. Ever the Stunticon with the death wish, Wildrider had slipped past Motormaster. He simply couldn’t stand it any longer. Sitting still and waiting was as like to dying to him. And so. Though he might – well not might, would – suffer for it, it was worth it.

Only. Perhaps not. Because shortly after Wildrider disappeared from sight, there was a rather loud crash and the screeching of tires. ”AAAAAAAGHHHHH!” came Wildrider’s cry in the distance.

The Ultrax--Airlock

Dead End had the apparent bravery to approach the apparently long-stasised Vehicon before transforming into his vehicle mode so they could head deeper into their familiar ol' rustbucket. Breakdown poked the static Vehicon tentatively before transforming and flipping on his high beams also.

"Well, isn't this just inconvenient. Corridor 8-4-B is collapsing, filled completely. Who knows how, but it's definitely hampers on the driving. Seems like the blast doors are on lock down," Dead End reported.

"Ehhh, we never used that corridor anyway," Breakdown said, even though he couldn't really pull up a clear memory of what was in that corridor in the first place.

"So now that the good news is out of the way, that bad news, we got movement. Seven-thirty-five distance at 22 degrees... Not sure of the verticality."

Huh. Movement? That was odd. What exactly would still be functional down here in this wreck? Breakdown wasn't exactly falling all over himself to find out.

"So, should we go see what the new room mate is?"

"Well...we wither deal with the monster in front of us or the monster behind us," Breakdown said, clearly indicating Motormaster. "I think I'm gonna play the odds on this one and assume it's another Vehicon scrap pile that still has a dribble or two of energy left in 'im."

And with that, Breakdown revved his engine, but before he could even get his wheels rolling, Wildrider roared past them both. Wildrider's craziness threw a whole different factor into the myriad of ways they could meet their end down here.

“Yo guys, bye guys!” he called out as he sped on.

What the frag?

”AAAAAAAGHHHHH!” came a spark-curdling cry, the echo carrying ominously in the derelict vessel corridors. Now a beating at the hands of Motormaster wasn't sounding quite so bad.

Still...

"Onward to death, eh?" Breakdown chuckled as he sped off in the direction that Wildrider had gone, careful to make sure he didn't take a sudden wrong turn into corridor 8-4-B.

Astrotrain's Cargo Hold/Ultrax Airlock

Knock-Off stepped off the Astrotrain's boarding ramp and immediately took note of the visible damage, a chill running down his spinal strut as Motormaster's promise of "not liking the alternative" echoed in his audio receptors. Probably best to stay clear of the big guy while he tried to get this damned thing airborne again.

"I certainly have my work cut out for me this time..." Knock-Out muttered under his breath as he ventured further into the derelict ship. The crimson car-former's alternate mode's head lights lit up across his chest plate as he trekked through the cooridor. Damn this was eery... and very wet. Shifting optics to the roof, the mechanic took note of yet another leak.

"AAAAAAAGHHHHH! Wildrider came hollered from down the corridor shortly after the screeching of his tires had died down causing Knock-Out to jump a little bit in his chassis.

"Onward to death, eh?" Breakdown replied seeing his colleague bolt down the corridor in hot pursuit.

"Wait! You idiots, it's prob-" Knock-Out's voice trailed as he watched the Stunticon's taillights disappeared into dark shroud down the corridor. Knock-Out huffed under his breath as he turned his attention towards the nearest wall to locate a maintenance hatch. Let them get their afts chewed out by Motormaster, Knock-Out wasn't brought to protoform sit, he had to get the Ultrax airborne again. His digits fiddled around in the dark where his headlamps could reach until...

"Ah ha!" The mechanic proclaimed as he located a maintenance panel. He input his Decepticon transceiver codes and the wall sluggishly flipped out an access terminal, a deposit of ocean water and silt dripping out too. Knock-Out tried to gain camera feed from the corridors but could only get 3 working properly, but their feeds were darker than the surrounding corridor network. Most of the ship was running on emergency power leaving most of the functions offline. The bridge seemed to be drawing most of the power, but if he could access the generators and fuel cells, he could redirect the emergency shut downs and at least get some lights back on. As for getting a total damage assessment, the mechanic tried switching over his screen to the ship's layout when the terminal screen crackled with sparks and flickered with a surge of energy.

"Great..." Knock-Out murmured before trying to access its fuse box. "I get that you Stuntys are exactly the best with 'hardware' and 'technical know-how', but this is just a simple fuse exchange." He removed one of the blown fuses and studying it carefully in his pointed digits. "Expired before the crash. Who woulda thought?" He stated with a roll of his optics. This was gonna be a long repair cycle...

The Ultrax--Airlock


"Onward to death, eh?"

Breakdown really put it into perspective. It was either the unknown thing that was gonna scrap him, or Motormaster. There was only one response to the universe's conspiracy.

"Let's face it. We're doomed."

Dead End's engine started to red-line as he chased after Wildrider and Breakdown. There was a moment when he wondered if he'd blow a gasket. The ping of his sensors mapping the area allowed him to prepare for sudden turns and drift from one corridor to the other.

Of course there was Wildrider who became easy to follow leaving gashes and scrapes against the hallways, while Breakdown was keeping up. Wildrider's signature was easy to spot, not that it was needed given the 'trail' he was leaving behind. Just more stuff for Knockout to fix.

Corridors

Scratches and scraps mark most of the walls of the Ultrax, but new ones marked Wildrider’s erratic path through the familiar halls of the Stunticon battleship. However as Dead End and Breakdown rounded yet another corner, fresh skid marks on the floor marked the end of Wildrider’s wild ride. Now, energon marked a new trail.

Energon streaks lined his particular hallway as something – likely Wildrider – had been attacked and dragged away. From the darkness glinted the distinctive shine of metal. Wildrider’s arm sitting in a pool of his own energon. From deeper within the ship, a low moan echoed.

”Ugggghhhhnnnn….”

It was followed by a low rumble of a growl. The sound of metal being scrapped along echoed from further down the hall. Wildrider called from the same place.

“Guys….little…help….?”

A snarl sounded followed by a yelp from the team’s resident psychopath. “ACK!”

Corridors

Wheels squealed as Dead End drifted around the bend. "You're going to get us all scrapped..." he said at low volume he grumbled. Wildrider probably had a death wish, which was fine, but he didn't need to drag the rest of them along on his suicidal charge which has left him in a state of crying out.

Long shadows filled the corridor, projected off the headlights of Dead End and Breakdown. What little that was in light was clear to see, as gouges in the floor and walls, along with various splatters of fresh energon left along them told the tale. What that tale was, they had yet to find out.

"We're coming Wildrider, don't slag this up!" Dead End shouted down the hall, hearing his voice echo back almost as fast as he was driving.

Then their was that sound, that animalistic growl that came back in response. It was enough to freeze circuits in place. Suddenly, decompression in this tin can didn't seem like such a bad idea. What was it that they were locked in this rust bucket with? What did it matter, they were all heading to the same junkyard in hell soon. Well, at least he's going with a fresh polish.

Astrotrain's cargo hold

Everything was going according to plan. Breakdown's paranoia being fed by forcing him to go first. Dead End's fatalism being encouraged by making him partner Breakdown. Drag Strip's competiviness being suppressed and Wildrider being denied from action by telling them to stay back. Such awkward torment he subjected his four minions to was excruciatingly delightful. At least for as long it lasted.

Not too surprisingly it was Wildrider who lost it despite of the obvious consequences that would follow. With the terrorist dashing away after his brothers, Motormaster turned his scowling visage towards the only remaining Stunticon in his presence – Drag Strip.

”You stupid idiot!” He roared, giving the yellow racer a vicious backhand that sent the smaller Decepticon crashing against Astrotrain's hull. ”That's for not stopping him!”

Optics flaring up in anger, Motormaster pointed his index finger towards the airlock, making a simple gesture even Drag Strip could understand. ”Go after them and make sure they don't waste whole mission cuddling that stupid mutt!”

Astrotrain’s Cargo Hold

Drag Strip just shook his cranium when Wildrider slipped by Motormaster and ran through the corridors of the Ultrax like a crazy mech. Of course, the terrorist was a crazy mech so it fit his personality perfectly. Drag remained where he was in the triple changer’s cargo hold, not wanting to disobey his commander’s previous order to stay put. The former herald allowed a slight smirk to form on his visage at the thought of ol’ Motorhead giving it to Wildrider as punishment for being insubordinate. The yellow Stunticon wasn’t that stupid, especially considering everything that had transpired in recent cycles.

”You stupid idiot!”

Oh, dear. There it was. Drag Strip had thought he was not in trouble for following Motormaster’s instructions. Of course, that was not the case. Instead, Drag was still in trouble and abruptly felt the backhand of his lord thy master which sent the yellow ‘con directly into Astrotrain’s inner hull.

”That's for not stopping him! Go after them and make sure they don't waste whole mission cuddling that stupid mutt!”

Yes, it was Drag Strip’s fault for not stopping that idiot, Wildrider. No matter what Drag did, or what someone else did, it was all Drag’s fault and would continue to be for the foreseeable future, maybe even forever. This would be part of his continuous punishment for becoming one of the Fallen’s heralds. No matter what happened, the former racer would be blamed.

Drag Strip pushed himself away from the inner hull, rubbing the side of his faceplate that had struck the wall. Drag glanced up at Motormaster, giving the large brute a simple nod of understanding. Nothing needed to be said and would likely only bring about further abuse. Wasting no more time, the yellow mech hurried past the Stunticon Commander and entered into the corridors of the Ultrax.

Corridors

Once inside the rundown frigate the Stunticons called a ship, Drag Strip transformed into his Dodge Viper ACR alt mode and raced down the hallway in the direction the other Stunticons had gone. It didn’t take long to catch up to both Breakdown and Dead End after having rounded another corner. But where was Wildrider? He was not plainly visible in the darkened corridor. Instead, only fresh skid marks seemed to indicate where the terrorist’s crazy ride had come to an abrupt end. From that point on only a trail of energon marked the way.

“Primus, what the slag happened here?” Drag Strip questioned as he pulled ahead of Breakdown and Dead End before reverting back to his robot mode and stopping both of his comrades in their tracks. “Whoa, slow down, guys. Motormaster sent me in here to keep you all focused on the mission. Where’s Wildrider at? Is he.....”

”Ugggghhhhnnnn….”

Drag Strip paused and looked down the corridor. “What was that? Wildrider, is that you down there? Stop fooling around. You’re going to get us all into trouble!” A growl then emanated from somewhere in the blackness. “This isn’t funny, 'Rider!”

“Guys….little…help….?.......ACK!”

It was Wildrider’s vocals all right, and he sounded like he needed help. Of course, he could just be playing a joke on them and with Drag Strip now present the terrorist would only keep on going. It’s what he lived for especially now. Except the snarling and growling sounds weren’t coming from him. They were coming from something else.

Drag Strip activated the light on the side of his cranium and slowly moved further down the corridor away from his comrades and towards the sounds Wildrider had just made. The former herald moved carefully, half expecting the resident psychopath to jump out at him from the dark. That didn’t happen. Instead, Drag came upon a gory sight to behold. Wildrider’s detached arm was lying in the middle of the hallway in a pool of energon. It had been viciously torn off.

“Frag it! What a mess,” Drag Strip stated, now realizing what was likely going on. He then glanced back at both Breakdown and Dead End. “This is no joke, guys! Rider's in trouble. I think that thing he calls a pet is out of its cage....” Drag paused, turning his attention back to the darkness in front of him as he pulled out his gravito-gun. “....and it appears to be very agitated.”

Corridors

Breakdown silently agreed with Dead End's assessment. Wildrider was going to get them all killed. The only question was when.

When Breakdown caught up and transformed, taking in the same gruesome sight that had captured the others' attention, his optics widened in obvious shock. What the frag...?

“This is no joke, guys! Rider's in trouble. I think that thing he calls a pet is out of its cage.......and it appears to be very agitated.”

"Ohhhhh....you've gotta be slaggin' kidding me. I thought that thing woulda starved by now," Breakdown huffed. He then opened a comm to Motormaster.

>>"Hey boss, you said we're s'posed to find 'possible threats'. Mission accomplished. I think Wildrider's pet ate him."<<

Corridors

>>"Hey boss, you said we're s'posed to find 'possible threats'. Mission accomplished. I think Wildrider's pet ate him."<<

"Wait. Hold on a minute. Hit the breaks, put this into full reverse. That thing is still crawling around here?!" Dead End knew they should have put it down the moment it was found, but of course it was still here. Fate had it out for Dead End since he started functioning, he didn't know why he expected this time to be any different.

His headbeams shown all the spilled energon, all of the bits and breaks done by Wildrider's entry and then sudden stop. Scanners continued to get a 'ping' of something moving beyond the darkness. It was enough to make his circuits freeze, thinking of it still being out there.

"Ok, so I suppose we gotta drag Wildrider back to Astrotrain. And by 'we' I mean you, Breakdown. I don't want any of him over my finish!"

Transforming back into Robot mode, he held a firm grip on his weapon. He'd sooner take his chances with a smelting pit than cross Motormaster over this.

"Alright Drag Strip, you're so concerned, lead the way."

Looking once again at the limb on the floor once belonging to the most reckless of the group, Dead End could only cringe. "Yeeeesh...."

Corridors

Wildrider heard…something. Something that was not…growling, snarling, or otherwise. What was that? It was on the tip of his vocalizer. Oh! He knew! It was the other Stunticons. Well, them minus the thunderously ominous tones of Motormaster. That was something of a relief. It wouldn’t last for long. But nice while it did.

As light fell upon him, he tilted his optics up to see that even Drag Strip had come looking. Aww, he shouldn’t have. He cared. Wildrider opened his mouth to speak.

“Gak!” he choked, coughing up a hefty amount of energon as he flailed his limbs to try to get up off the floor. However, energon was slippery, so it amounted to him looking like a twitching, gurgling husk of a Stunticon. “H-Hak! H-Hey, g-guk-guys, welcome to the party.”

Looking around to see that his assailant had vanished, Wildrider scratched his head. “Huh. So, uh, Colonel Bonkers is a weeeeeeee bit angry that we left him.” Wildrider pinched his fingers together to demonstrate. “He’s probably…not too far…”

A metallic clank sounded from behind the group of Stunticons. Looking past Breakdown, Dead End, and Drag Strip, Wildrider noted a grate from one of the vents on the ceiling now relocated to the floor. A hulking form swiftly followed, landing with a decidedly more sinister thud. A low growl rumbled, echoing into the long corridor.

A metallic paw took one stride forward before the rest of the beast known only as a Hellhound surged forth, maw agape. It lunged forward, taking a leap at Dead End.

Corridors

"Ohhhhh....you've gotta be slaggin' kidding me. I thought that thing woulda starved by now."

“No such luck, I’m afraid,” Drag Strip replied to Breakdown as he remained focused on the darkened corridor ahead of them, his gravito-gun ready for the Hellhound’s sudden appearance.

"Wait. Hold on a minute. Hit the breaks, put this into full reverse. That thing is still crawling around here?! Ok, so I suppose we gotta drag Wildrider back to Astrotrain. And by 'we' I mean you, Breakdown. I don't want any of him over my finish! Alright Drag Strip, you're so concerned, lead the way."

“Gee, thanks, Dead,” the yellow racer scowled. “And I wouldn’t say that I’m as concerned about Wildrider’s well being as I am about my own. Between that Hellhound’s appetite and what Motormaster will do to us if we don’t get it under control and get back to our mission, I’ll be lucky if I don’t end up in the scrap yard permanently! Now, stay behind me and try not to get in the way.”

With that said, Drag Strip cautiously moved further down the corridor, his head lamp lighting the way. Following the sounds of gasping and moaning, it didn’t take long for the former race champion to locate the fallen terrorist.

“H-Hak! H-Hey, g-guk-guys, welcome to the party.”

“Dear Primus, Wildrider, you look like slag, and I don’t mean the Dinobot, either!” Drag Strip exclaimed as he almost tripped over his comrade’s severed arm in the process. Bending down, the yellow mech picked up the arm and tossed it over to ‘Rider. “Here, you lost that.”

“Huh. So, uh, Colonel Bonkers is a weeeeeeee bit angry that we left him. He’s probably…not too far…”

“I’m going to shoot that damned thing between the optics when I see it, ‘Rider! I swear,” Drag Strip threatened, not knowing how Wildrider would react and not really caring. The Hellhound was a dangerous beast when agitated or just in general. The yellow Stunticon was surprised Motormaster had allowed it to remain on board for as long as he had. Perhaps it was just another way to torment them with the exception of Wildrider, of course. He seemed to enjoy the monster’s company.

Suddenly, a loud clank sound came from behind Drag Strip and the other two Stunticons. The former herald spun around and pointed his head-mounted lamp down the corridor to reveal that the sound had come from a ventilation grate which had fallen from the ceiling followed by the Hellhound in question. The beast was large, big enough for a Stunticon to ride on. It growled at them and took a single stride forward. Then it lunged with its maw opened wide and leapt directly at Dead End.

“Look out, Dead!” Drag Strip shouted as he tried to take aim with his gravito-gun. Unfortunately, the angle was no good as Dead End partially blocked Drag’s view of the Hellhound. Between that and the limited visibility, the risk of injuring Dead End was too great to take the chance of hitting him, as well. Motormaster would likely not be happy about two of his brood being injured and would almost certainly blame Drag for the whole thing even though the beast wasn't his pet to begin with.

“Dammit! I can’t get a clean shot! Breakdown, you're in a better position. Shoot it!” Drag Strip yelled as he hurried back towards his two comrades in the hopes of getting a clearer shot and preventing more energon-shed.

Corridors

For the briefest moments, Dead End's world was an open maw filled with metal-gnashing teeth and enraged hungry roars. This thing was big enough to consume his head in one bite, and there was no lack of trying on the Hellhound's part. Bits of what ever it used to keep itself operational were falling as tiny shards over Dead End's face plate, remnants of some Vehicon no doubt.

The Stunticon found himself on his back, this beast trying to bite him in two, and it was all Dead End could do to keep the creature off him, forcing his forearm under it's jaw.

When the Hellhound couldn't get it's jaws, it's claws were tearing at his chest-plate, leaving long gouges across his finish. Dead End's face was showing great frustration, becoming enraged that this mechanical animal had just ruined his detail work! He had spend most of the day polishing and buffing his panels, and now in a motion.

Trying to raise his arm with pistol in hand, he fired several times, the trashing animal throwing his aim off, blasting the ceiling several times and he started yelling at the top volume of his vocal processors.

"Get this thing off me! Slagging Mutt!"

His optics caught a glimpse of his fellow Stunticons struggling to get a shot.

Throwing his knee into the belly of the beast, he forced the beast upward a bit, hoping to present a shot for his squad. He knew one thing for sure: It was going to take cycles to get his finish back....

Corridors

Breakdown had picked up Wildrider's severed arm as Dead End had suggested and followed the other two deeper into the bowels of their ship. It was all familiar--this was their ship--but knowing Wildrider's pet beasty was roaming around and had likely already mauled one of them to death was doing nothing good for Breakdown's already ridiculously heightened levels of paranoia.

When they at last came upon their fallen Stunticon brother, he looked about as well as Breakdown imagined. Well, that wasn't true. Breakdown ha really only expected to find some half-digested portion of Wildrider's torso at this point. That he was functional at all was truly surprising.

When the loud clank got their attention, Breakdown spun around instantly, just as the others had. Before he could even get out the words "Oh frag-", the creature had already leapt at Dead End. Instinctively, Breakdown let off a couple of rounds from the scatter-blaster in his free hand--torching the deadly ceiling above him and wall beside him, but not the toothy creature nearby.

“Dammit! I can’t get a clean shot! Breakdown, you're in a better position. Shoot it!”

"No kidding!" Breakdown shouted, practically falling over himself to put a little distance between himself, Dead End and the hellmutt.

As he was lining up an actual aimed-shot, Dead End forced his knee joint into the creature's body, jerking it upwards and causing Breakdown's face to light up in surprise as it got right into his line of sight. He fired. Whether he hit it or did any significant damage, Breakdown didn't know, since before he draw back for another shot, a silvery-appendage sliced its way through the darkened corridors and stabbed him through the upper chest.

"Grahhhhughhhhh," the Stunticon moaned as sparks and fluids spilled out of the wound as he fell back.

Corridors

“Dear Primus, Wildrider, you look like slag, and I don’t mean the Dinobot, either!” Drag Strip exclaimed as he almost tripped over his comrade’s severed arm in the process. Bending down, the yellow mech picked up the arm and tossed it over to ‘Rider. “Here, you lost that.”

“Thanks,” Wildrider commented as his arm smacked him in the face. “Appreciate it.” Reaching out with the arm that was still attached, Wildrider somehow managed to grasp his severed appendage. Not without pain, but, eh.

“I’m going to shoot that damned thing between the optics when I see it, ‘Rider! I swear,” Drag Strip threatened, not knowing how Wildrider would react and not really caring.

“You can try,” Wildrider commented, hissing in agony as he twisted around in the puddle of his own energon. “But it’ll probably end badly for ya.” Of course, at that moment, Colonel Bonkers decided to make his entrance. Very theatrical pup, he was. Or had good timing. Either way.

“Dammit! I can’t get a clean shot! Breakdown, you're in a better position. Shoot it!”

“Hey, hey! You better not shoot him! He’ll go nuts! And so will I!” Wildrider threatened from the floor, brandishing his severed arm like a club. Casting his optics over to the beast in question, he shifted to get a bit of a better view of what was going on.

Colonel Bonkers snapped his jaws mere breaths away from Dead End’s face, flicking some sort of slobber over the pessimist’s faceplate. Ah, classic. It let out a woof as Dead End rammed his knee into Colonel Bonker’s belly. Momentarily stunned, something hot and painful clinked across his shoulder. The beast’s angry optics fell upon Breakdown.

It happened in an instant. Suddenly, Breakdown was falling back, a gash through his chest. Colonel Bonkers had lunged off of Dead End to strike at the paranoid one with blinding speed. However, now exposed, it looked to Drag Strip next when its ears suddenly perked up, glancing back down the darkened corridor.

Colonel Bonkers let out a soft whine, head lowered, retreating past Drag Strip to cower behind the fallen form of its owner, Wildrider. Soon Wildrider could hear it too. The thundering rumble of a diesel engine. The dull roar of a swift and large approaching mass of hate.

“Uh oh…” Wildrider winced. This was gonna hurt a lot more than Colonel Bonker’s welcome home present.

Corridors

A sound of transformation, the blinding light of a big rig’s full high beam battery highlighting the fools trying to tame a single hellhound. A roar of a starting diesel engine. Soon accompanied by the furious rumble of revving and the screech of multiple tires against the metal floor of the ship as Motormaster’s overpowered engine charged his massive frame into motion. Approaching black mass. Growing larger and louder, second by second. And it was the hound was on the large tractor’s sights. The hound which had suddenly decided to seek shelter behind his ”master” after all the trouble it had caused.

A collision was imminent. Despite of Motormaster actually bothering to hit the brakes not to crash into both Wildrider and the hellhound at fatal speed for the two – there was no way he’d stop in time to not cause a world of hurt to both. They were going to get ran over and quite frankly in Motormaster’s opinion – they both deserved it. And if the rest of the Stunticons weren’t fast enough to dodge – too bad for them.

Corridors

Well, this was a cluster-frag to end all cluster-frags. Dead End had managed to push Captain Bonkers up with his knee while Breakdown managed to fire off a single shot that only grazed the Hellhound. The beast, in turn, impaled Breakdown in his chest. Of course, Wildrider was threatening to go nuts if anyone shot his precious little pet. Drag Strip didn’t really care if the terrorist went nuts. He’d seen it all before and was never impressed. What the former racer did care about was not getting ripped to shreds and eaten.

The Hellhound then set its sights on the former herald, but almost immediately got spooked by something and quickly retreated to its one-armed owner. Drag Strip lowered his weapon as Captain Bonkers cowered behind Wildrider. “That was easier than expected,” Drag commented as the sound of Motormaster approaching echoed through the corridors of their crashed frigate. An astrosecond later, those ominous headlights came into view, bathing the entire hallway in an angry glow. The Stunticon Commander was hellbent on running over both the hound and Wildrider along with it. On top of that, if anyone else got in his way they would get run down, as well.

Drag Strip had no intention of getting run over. He’d recently suffered enough pain from his brutish leader to last a vorn or more. However, Drag also had the opportunity to help not just himself but one of his comrades. Wildrider was definitely not a contender since he was the current object of Motormaster’s rage. Dead End was too far away and more than capable of removing himself from harm’s way. Breakdown, on the other hand, had a gaping hole in his chest plate and was close enough to the yellow racer for him to lend a helping hand. Hopefully, this gesture of good will would show the others that Drag was once again a team player and could be counted on in the future. Motormaster would almost certainly not care, but perhaps the rest of the Stunticons would.

“Come on, Breakdown, time to move,” Drag Strip said as he quickly reached out and grabbed a hold of his jittery comrade’s arm before dragging him out of the big rig’s intended path of destruction. The former herald then pressed his back against a nearby wall to ensure he would remain out of Motormaster’s way.

Corridors

Wildrider braced himself for the inevitable. Pain. It wasn’t something that he was unaccustomed to. Obviously. But Motormaster had a special flair for it. A flair that was decidedly less fun. Less exhilarating. Much more awful. It sucked really. A lot. And there was no escape for him. Yay. Sigh. Wildrider held up his arm as a shield.

Colonel Bonkers seemed to catch wind of exactly what was about to happen and ditched him, cowering instead by one of the walls. Ah. Such loyalty. Wildrider considered disciplining his pet, but threw out the idea after a moment. That was part of the reason he loved the mutt anyway. But this was the last thought that had time to run through Wildrider’s processor as Motormaster had arrived.

“AGGGHHHH!” Wildrider screamed as he was smashed into by Motormaster, the pain unimaginable and immeasurable.