PART 125
Sunstreaker severed the barrel of Motormaster’s rifle in one clean arc of his buzzsaw hand.The full-sized cyclone that sprang from the sawed-off weapon sent Motormaster swirling towards the ceiling while Sunstreaker backspinned beneath him. The artificially generated circular winds expanded exponentially, swallowing the four fleeing Stunticons into a roaring mix of machinery, girders, glass, and rocky debris. The cyclone quickly reached it’s crescendo soon after, exploding with a sonic boom that leveled the structure in which it was spawned.
Silence followed the sudden dispersal of the storm. A giant cloud hung over the metal bodies mixed into the debris. A pair of beady yellow optics on a red faceplate flickered to life, and Breakdown rose from the rubble in a state of paranoia.
“That was loud!” he hissed. “Somebody had to have heard that! Someone… somewhere… and now we’re being watched! I just know it!”
“Breakdown,” Motormaster mumbled from beneath the mound being trodden by the paranoid misfit. “Shut up and give me a hand!”
Breakdown grasped the gray hand protruding from the wreckage and pulled his superior into a sitting position. Motormaster immediately spied a yellow foot buried in the rubble beside him and dragged it’s owner free. Drag Strip was yanked out into the open air with an accusatory stare on his visor and a sneer on his lips. Wildrider erupted from a scrap pile nearby with the same set of expressions.
“This is your fault, Motormaster!” they pointed and yelled, united in their anger.
Motormaster grabbed them by their necks, but stopped short of knocking their insolent heads together. Six vehicles speeding down the road towards them gave him pause.
“It’s more of those Auto-bozos!” he bellowed. “Stunticons, attack!”
His troops waded free of the debris field and alt-formed as they each reached the asphalt, homing in on select members of the Autobot convoy like heat-seeking missiles.
Drag Strip sped towards Optimus Prime and dutiful Ironhide accelerated to cut the racer off. The collision between the two Transformers sent flaming parts flying into the air. The Autobots kept their current course, believing the lightweight Decepticon destroyed by his foolhardy decision to crash headlong into one of the toughest Cybertronians ever built.
It was Blaster—disguised as a boom box in Tracks’ back window—who witnessed the aftermath. Ironhide had reverted back to robot-mode with several panels severely misaligned. Smoke wafted from in between bent armor plates as he struggled to remain standing.
Drag Strip however, was in pristine condition. The Stunticon drove forward shakily at first, then began to pick up speed as he searched for his next victim. Any victim.
“Holy heterodyne!” exclaimed Blaster. “What’re these creeps hulls made out of?”
“Beats me,” replied Tracks. “But I don’t aim to find out!”
Tracks sprouted wings and tail fins that he used to skim over Breakdown, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision.
Meanwhile, Sideswipe and Wildrider were involved in a game of chicken with neither participant showing any intention of breaking away. Fortunately for Sideswipe, one of Smokescreen’s missiles—fired from the hood of his alt-form—reached Wildrider first, sending him veering off course.
“Sideswipe! Are your circuits scrambled?” radioed Smokescreen. “You almost got yourself totaled!”
“Aw, I was just trying to have some fun!” Sideswipe radioed back.
There would be no such interference in the contest between Optimus Prime and Motormaster. The two faction leaders crashed head on, culminating in a sonic boom that overturned their subordinates vehicular forms.
Motormaster was the first to stir. He lifted his head and saw his rival sprawled out on the other side of the crater created by their collision. Motormaster grinned from audio receptor to audio receptor as he rose to his feet. Now not only could he claim to be the King of the Road without reservation, but he had also accomplished what Megatron couldn’t in a million years—the destruction of Optimus Prime!
Or so he thought…
The Autobot leader’s optics suddenly flashed on as Motormaster’s shadow crept across his faceplate. A hefty leg sweep brought the self proclaimed King of the Road down to his level. An Ion rifle aimed at his head threatened to remove his crown entirely.
Optimus Prime assessed the battle raging around him while computing how much of an advantage would actually be gained by simply pulling the trigger. He had learned over the course of the war that in certain situations Decepticon commanders were more useful alive than dead.
Blaster leapt spread eagle over Breakdown’s speeding form and landed in a kneeling sniper’s stance. He unloaded a stream of scrambler waves into the Stunticon’s rear end, causing him to fishtail and careen into a collapsed brick wall. After a quick systems reboot, Breakdown threw himself into reverse and sped backwards towards Blaster for round two.
Tracks—still in flying car mode—scored a double-missile direct-hit on Drag Strip. The racer emerged from the flames unscathed in robot form, firing a gravity inducing Gravito-gun that grounded his airborne assailant. Smokescreen cut a path between the two combatants, spewing smoke from his tailpipes that camouflaged the wounded Track’s retreat.
Skids deployed two weapons as he traded shots with a shotgun wielding Wildrider. The Stunticon sought no cover from Skids’ unrelenting liquid nitrogen streams and twin electron blasts. Instead he stood his ground, laughing uncontrollably while pulling the trigger and perforating everything in front of him.
“Motormaster, this madness must end!” decreed Optimus Prime.
He pressed his Ion rifle against Motormaster’s head. “Tell your troops to surrender,” he demanded. “Tell them now!”
Motormaster raised his comm to his mouth. “It’s over,” he radioed. “Turn over your weapons. We lost.”
Breakdown’s hood folded back to reveal a bewildered face as he reverted to robot-mode. “W-what!? B-but we’re winning!” he sputtered.
Drag Strip relinquished his Gravito-gun to Tracks and reluctantly clasped his fingers behind his head.
“Motormaster, you loser!” he screamed as he knelt down. “You ordered us to surrender just because you got your skid plate handed to you!? You should’a allowed yourself to be deactivated with some dignity! I hope these Auto-bums remove your cowardly Spark!”
Wildrider was having none of it. Even with cracked armor and burnt out components, It took the combined efforts of Skids, Blaster, and Smokescreen to wrest away his weapon and force him to his knees.
“Can’t believe we followed this fraud for over a million years,” grumbled Wildrider. “Prime even has that junk pile’s Ionizer sword strapped to his back.”
“He owns him,” sneered Drag Strip. “Like a slaggin’ Headmaster.”
In his mind, Motormaster wasn’t defeated. The Autobots were soft. They’d lock him up in another detention center, he’d do the time, and when the Autobots eventually lost and he was liberated, Prime would pay for this indignity. Everyone would pay.
“Okay, ya got us, Prime.” he sighed. “What now?”
Optimus Prime crossed his arms. “Your futures will depend on how forthcoming the four of you are with the information we need. Where are the two Autobots you were tracking? What happened to them?”
“You mean Sunstreaker and the rando?” smirked Drag Strip. “Tell your tin soldiers to start digging. I’m sure they’ll find something shiny under all that scrap.”
“Sideswipe…”
“Already on it, Prime!” acknowledged Sideswipe, from somewhere amongst the wreckage.
Optimus continued on with his interrogations.
“How many Decepticons were transported to Earth before we shut down Megatron’s Space Bridge? How many of you are currently stationed here on this planet?”
“Close to a hundred,” confessed Breakdown. “Insecticons, mostly.”
Wildrider started laughing again for no apparent reason.
“Decepticon… I fail to see the humor in your current situation,” Optimus Prime cautioned, as he followed the dented and demented Stunticon’s gaze to the point of his fixation.
His optics fell upon Sideswipe’s back.
The Autobot soldier was busy freeing Dead End from the rubble.
“Sideswipe, NO!”
The command came too late. Electricity spread over the five separated Stunticons like lightning. They were being pulled together, twisting and turning into one singular entity.
Blaster stared upwards at the Combiner looming over them. Then he looked over at Sideswipe and asked him with all sincerity—
“Hey man, whose side are you on anyway?”
(to be continued)