TEEN: - Ongoing The Beginning (Transformers)

[dajman1996]

I'll have 4 chapters up since I wrote them a while ago so injoy!



This is possibly inaccurate, pre-G1, and might have a lot of mistakes.

Based around WFC, (War for Cybertron) one of my favourite games related to the Transformers Franchise.

This is a new idea I randomly thought up whilst sitting bored in school, so why not give it a shot, I figured. My First time writing Fan Fiction, by the way.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Trigger-Happy

The night-sky smelt like charred metal, the environment looked like a scrapheap, but that was what it always looked like on Iacon City. Aside from the Autobase, which was kept squeaky-clean around the clock, the remainder of the suburb was half-broken, battle-damaged and fire-scorched, a reminder of the ongoing battle still occurring around them. The Iacon speedway, thankfully, was still accessible, but there were constant warnings of lingering Decepticon activity around those parts.

But they were just warnings, and no warning could stop Autobot Specialist Wheeljack from racing down that path. It firstly, was the closest route to get to the Autobase, and secondly, Wheeljack was in a rush.

He was late for work.

"Aw, slag it," he mumbled, "Ironhide is gonna murder me when he finds out I'm late."

Wheeljack continued down the vast expanse of land until he finally caught sight of the magnificent domed building which represented the Autobase. Shining, golden and well-defended, the Autobase was a work of art. The massive structure housed 58% of the current energon the Autobots had, and it contained thousands of Autobot Soldiers, Scientists, and Scouts, all ready to be deployed when the time came.

Wheeljack finally arrived at the main gate, and as he transformed, he caught a glimpse of the two figures guarding the fortress' main entrance. It was just a glimpse, but he was sure.

The 'bots guarding the gate were none other than Red Alert and Sideswipe

He smiled. It was an odd pair.

Red Alert, cautious as always, was always ranting on about how everyone was all trying to kill him, and would start false alarms frequently when he felt that there was danger. Sideswipe, on the other hand, couldn't have been more different. Cool, sleek, fast, and skilful, Sideswipe was always there in the heat of the battle, whether you'd like or not. Sideswipe also was an occasional prankster, pulling jokes on Prowl or his brother, Sunstreaker just for the fun of it.

As Wheeljack approached the pair, he felt a strange sense of serenity. Perhaps today wasn't going to be as bad as he hoped.

Red Alert scanned the plain for any signs of enemy activity.

Nothing.

The land outside the Autobase was literally deserted at this time of hour. It was practically just him, Sideswipe, and the 5 or 6 other elites that were patrolling the other parts of the base.

Some metal scraped on metal, and Red Alert reacted instantly, turning around and whipping his Ion Blaster up, trying to find the source of the sound.

"Primus, Red Alert, chill, okay?" said a familiar voice.

Red Alert turned around once more. "Well I'd rather be cautious than dead," he replied.

Sideswipe emerged from the shadows.

"Well genius, first step to staying alive is saving your ammo."

He pushed the barrel of the gun down.

"Relax man, there's nothing out there."

As soon as he said that however, a figure approached them.

Red Alert, as cautious as ever, shoved Sideswipe's hand away and once again pulled up his Ion Blaster.

"Halt!" he yelled, "Who goes there?"

The thing in the shadows hesitated, and then continued forward.

"I SAID HALT!" screeched Red Alert.

The object kept advancing towards them, slowly but steadily.

Red Alert looked over at Sideswipe, who was unsheathing his trademark dual blades.

"Get ready," Sideswipe warned, "We may be in for a battle."

Red Alert said nothing; he only cocked his blaster and shifted his optics down to the scope.

The shape moved in closer.

"Red Alert," reminded Sideswipe, "Try not to fire wildly like last time."

Red Alert stifled a smirk.

"And you call me nervous," he replied.

The individual stepped into the light—

Just as Red Alert tightened his trigger finger and let loose a spray of sizzling bullets, causing clouds of smoke to erupt from his weapon.

The bullets went wild, and missed, and as Sideswipe was about to unleash a cross-chop with his dual blades, the smoke cleared—

-and standing there, quite impishly, was Wheeljack, and mixture of horror and disbelief plastered all over his face.

Sideswipe looked up, and immediately registered.

"Wheeljack," he muttered, "Just had to come late today."

 

[dajman1996]

Chapter 2: "Inexcusably Late"

"You guys really need to lighten up," Wheeljack explained, hands still up in the air.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that," replied Sideswipe. "Big ol' Red here just got trigger-happy, that's all."
Red Alert looked up in annoyance. "I was most certainly not trigger-happy!" he exclaimed, "I just thought you might've been a Decepticon, that's all. You can never tell who's who in this environment anyway…"

"Excuses, Excuses, Excuses. Maybe you should get ya optics checked, Red," joked Sideswipe.

Red Alert replied a short, sharp, and crude answer. "Slag off."

"Slag off?" Sideswipe answered, "Slag off! You think this is funny, huh, you two-rate piece o' junk son of a seeke—"

"Whoa, WHOA!" Wheeljack cut in. "You guys are on the same side. Stop fighting each other and concentrate and fighting the Decepticons. You bots are great partners, not enemies. You just haven't got to know each other yet."

Wheeljack paused for a moment, as if to think, and then continued on.

"Now let me in," he said.

Leaving the bickering of the two robotic warriors behind him, Wheeljack entered the Autobase. As impressive as it was outside, it was the building's inner beauty which actually took his breath away. The place was bustling with life. Autobot soldiers and scientists were running everywhere, trying to get to their respective stations and the sound of welding metal could be heard faintly as the engineers improved the structure's advanced defence system.

A voice invaded his thoughts.

"Wheeljack, "it said, "WHEEJACK!"

Wheeljack reeled, and turned around instantly, looked around for the source of the noise.

He was met with a tall bot, which was a full head taller than him. Glistening Red and Aqua paint covered his body. A large scope (used for examining and shooting) sat on his shoulder, and in his hand was a metal welder. On top of his smiling, kind and highly intelligent cranium sat a welding mask. Wheeljack recognized him instantly.

"Perceptor!" he said. "What's shaking?"

Perceptor replied hastily. "Well, currently I'm developing a sort of static-cloud which can be used to disable onlooking security cameras and the like. I'm having trouble on containing it though. The material is highly unstable."

Perceptor switched his optics so that they currently stared straight at Wheeljack.

"You're late for duty, Wheeljack," he finally said.

"Great observation skills, Perceptor. You're a scientific genius."

"I thank you for your compliment."

Wheeljack slapped his audio receptors in disbelief. Perceptor just couldn't handle sarcasm.

"Well Perceptor, old buddy. I thank you for this chat, "Wheeljack replied hastily. "I bid you goodbye."

"Have fun!" Perceptor said whilst shaking Wheeljack hand.

Suddenly, without warning, Perceptor edged in closer to Wheeljack, as if telling him a secret.

"By the way," he whispered, "Ironhide's hopping mad at you today. I'd avoid him at all costs today if I was you."

"I figured that the moment I entered this complex," murmured Wheeljack. "Anyway, good luck with those static disruptors."

"You too with Ironhide!" said Perceptor.

Perceptor then flipped his helmet back on, and trudged back towards his lab. As he walked away, he could be heard muttering "Another day, another dollar."

Wheeljack's audio receptors picked those words up with ease. He smiled. That was your average-typical-everyday Perceptor.

He continued through the crowd, weaving through multiple corridors and hallways until he finally arrived at his office. "Ah, yes," Wheeljack sighed. "Nothing like a cold splash of reality to—"

"Talking to yourself again, Wheeljack?" a gruff voice said.

Wheeljack turned around. And his jaw-dropped. Literally.

As Wheeljack bent down to pick up his mouth plate, and frantically screw it back on, the voice stepped into Wheeljack's view. It revealed none-other than the ever-rusty weapons-specialist Ironhide. The exact bot Wheeljack didn't want to run into today.

Oh, how lucky Wheeljack was.

Wheeljack stood up quickly and clumsily saluted, hitting his audio receptor in the process. As he spoke, he tried not to grimace in pain.

"Ah, yes sir. Sorry I'm late sir. I just got caught in traffic, sir, you know, the thick kind, the heavy kind. As, I said, I'm terribly sorry. I'm so sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry…"

As Wheeljack's mouth started to fail him, Ironhide returned Wheeljack's ridiculous explanation act with a cold, hard stare. "I had received information that there has been hardly any traffic because of frequent Decepticon activity around the main freeways."

Wheeljack began to babble mindlessly, slurring his words as his audio processor started to fizzle and burn. His mouth began to exhale masses of smoke, before spontaneously exploding, splattering a mixture of wires and chips all over the ground.

'Slagging Hell, Primus, Slagging Hell' mouthed Wheeljack as he once again bent down, this time to retrieve fragments of his mouth which had been scattered around the hall.

Ironhide just stared down at the pathetic figure of Wheeljack and continued. "Anyway," he exclaimed, trying to re-claim Wheeljack's attention, "I was going to put you on Hall Duty for your inexcusable lateness, but seeing how desperate you are to get your parts fixed, I'll just leave you with a warning."

Ironhide disappeared down the corridor, whistling a tune Blaster had recently played, and chucked a shiny, silver object to Wheeljack's position. Wheeljack picked it up, and examined it.

It was the key to his office.

In a desperate (and failed) attempt to avoid Ironhide at all costs, he had forgotten to check in at the reception and receive his office key. Wheeljack slapped his optics in disbelief. Aside from the innovative scientist he was, he still had much to get used to.

Back on his feet, and with his jaw and voice box firmly attached to his face, Wheeljack scanned his key, and walked in his office, unaware of the horror awaiting him. He stepped into pitch-black, and as he walked around, trying to turn on his headlights, he slipped.

Wheeljack crashed to the metal floor, hard, snapping his right leg off in the process. "Slag," he groaned, as he tried to prop himself up using only his arms as support. He needed an upgrade or two very soon.

His lights finally flickered on, and to his dismay, he looked around at the office he worked in. The office was a mess. Oil, Energon cubes, and metals were lying everywhere. His diagrams were soaked in fluid, now unrecognizable. His sturdy Cybertanium shelf was now on the floor, with split models and parts lying in a heap next to it.

"RATCHET!" he yelled.

An Autobot Pod descended silently towards the Autobase. It landed with a faint 'hisssssss' and transformed. The mech, short and stubby, painted in mainly dark green and yellow, quickly hobbled towards the docking bay of the Autobase, whilst firmly holding a data-con. He entered through the open hangar, and was greeted than none other but Sideswipe, back from his guard-duty session with Red Alert.

Sideswipe assessed the 'bot in size and stature, then smiled.

"Cosmos!" he exclaimed whilst walking towards the shuttle, "Back so early from your little space-expedition?"

Cosmos, much shorter than Sideswipe, looked up and explained professionally, "I need to see Sentinel Prime. There's some urgent alarming news that I've just received."

Sideswipe grinned cheekily, his face revealing anything but sadness. "Cosmos, what could you possibly receive at this time of hour that's important, huh?" he said, "The latest episode of The Outer Limits, hmmm?"

Cosmos shoved the hard drive he was holding into Sideswipe's energon digester. Sideswipe clutched his stomach in pain and grimaced, looking back up at Cosmos.

"What in Primus was that for?" he cried.

Cosmos looked at the winded Sideswipe, and lay the drive on the floor. He promptly activated it with his foot, and streams of data projected out. Sideswipe read it quickly, his optics whirring. Seconds later, the message ended and Sideswipe looked back at Cosmos, his face now full of alarm.

"Cosmos, is this true? It is going to happen?" he asked.

Cosmos heaved a heavy sigh and muttered.

"I'm afraid it is."

 

[dajman1996]

The battlefield was filled with smoke as the Decepticons retreated, as a continuous stream of lasers emerged from an Ion Displacer turret at the far-end of the ground. Although vastly outnumbered, they continued to fight on, still pinned behind a makeshift barricade made from rubble, steel, and some Transformer carcasses. The 'cons behind the wall slowly began to counter-attack, each bot firing one round after another, with a couple of missile launches in-between.

But it still wasn't enough.

As he fired, one of the Decepticon seekers yelled out to their field commander. "Sir, what's our battle strategy?" he screeched across the din of the fight.

The field commander emerged from his post, and fired off a few rounds from his EMP shotgun before replying. "I'm not sure!" he shouted, as a flak grenade went off. "I say we rush them, quickly and efficiently!"

The seeker turned to reply—

And was assaulted in the face by a short burst of gunfire. He flopped to the metallic ground, immobilised. The commander looked down at his fallen companion in horror, and then looked forward, trying to find the source of the gunfire which had so cruelly discharged his soldier. The answer came moments later, as lasers emerged from the far-end of the field, searching for another target. The commander quickly ducked under the barricade. Moments later, a beam of light swept over the spot where his head had been previously.

"Slaggin' snipers," he muttered.

As he quickly reloaded his weapon, a young scout emerged from his hiding post, driving towards his commander whilst nearly hitting a mortar blast. The Cybertronian Speed car skidded to a halt, and transformed, revealing a 'bot with light-purple armour, holstering a SCATTER BLASTER full-auto shotgun and look of confusion on his face.

"Sir," he said whilst letting off a few rounds from his shotgun, "Are you sure about that plan?"

"Plan, Barricade?" he commander replied, a strange sense of unknowing in his voice, "What plan? We never had a strategy to begin with."

"That plan that you were discussing with him," Barricade said, pointing at the fallen seeker. "D'you think it's gonna work?"

"Right now Barricade, any plan is better than no pl—," the commander began, but was abruptly cut off by a energon-tingling scream somewhere on the battleground. Everyone on the Decepticon side of the field snapped up, looking for who or what had fallen.

But no-one had been destroyed.

In fact, there was a whoosh of smoke, and slowly emerging from that cloud was a heavily armoured and impressively armed Cybertronian Battle Tank. The Tank rolled through the enemy barricade, completely flattening it, and with surprising ease, transformed, revealing a darkly painted bot, with battle damaged armour, either burnt or bullet-ridden. The tank roared, and whilst brandishing his X12 Scrapmaker Minigun, charged into the enemy fort.

Back on the other side of the field, the Decepticon soldiers looked in awe. They all had clearly seen who had performed that suicidal act. Except the commander, who was still reloading. (EMP shotguns take ages to reload, mind you!)

The commander looked up at Barricade, who was peering over their barricade. (Nice pun, eh?)

"Barricade," he whispered, "What just happened?"

Barricade replied with a single word.

"Brawl," he said.

At first, Brawl didn't know what on earth he was thinking when he absently ran into the fort, but at the time, he had been listening to his field-commander's ideas about "rushing them" and thought he might give it a go, when he was hit, square in the kneecap by a rocket that detonated on impact.

That was the source of the anguish scream the Decepticons had heard earlier.

Then Brawl, without even thinking, transformed and rammed the enemy base with his armoured tank plating, and entered, without so much of a blink, or a twitch of a servo.

He was currently in an odd shaped corridor, which was plated with missile-proof steel and had blast-resistant doors. Brawl smirked. What a pathetic waste of materials. Nothing could stop him from tearing this place apart limb from limb.

But he had to stop, for he was on a schedule. He had to quickly lay waste to this fort, and Brawl knew the perfect solution. He removed from his backpack a small yet powerful device, a Thermo-Mine. Brawl timed the blast to go off in exactly 2 Earth Minutes. Plenty of time.

He ran down the length of the corridor and found out that the entrance he came through had been sealed up. A normal Decepticon soldier would've panicked, wasting precious time. Not Brawl. Battle- hardened, and resourceful, Brawl merely raised his Scrapmaker Minigun and pulled the trigger.

The gun spluttered to life, unleashing a devastating amount of rounds onto the blocked entrance. The rock covering the entrance crumbled, and gave way. Brawl stepped back out onto the field, and walked proudly towards his team's barricade.

The field commander looked up, searching from Brawl. As Brawl slowly emerged from the building, the commander breathed a sigh of relief. Brawl had made it out injury-free. They were finished.

"All right!" he yelled. "Everyone, round up the equipment, we're getting out of here!"

Then, the whole enemy fort spontaneously exploded, showering rubble and debris everywhere. All the Decepticon soldiers shielded their optics as the remains of what was once an impressive and well-defended base rained down on them like a goddamn hose.

As he felt the heat of the blast singe his back a little, Brawl turned around and looked at the raging inferno behind him. He continued walking still looking at the damage he had caused when he was interrupted by a short, sharp whistle in his audio receptors. It was the speedy Decepticon scout, Barricade.

"Hey Brawl," Barricade said, whilst quickly approaching Brawl, "You think that was a bit too much?"

Brawl took one last gaze at the blaze, and then replied.

"Nah, they got off lightly."

Training Simulation Terminated. Returning Subjects to HQ.

Decepticon Strategist Onslaught stared at the unmoving data report from the recent training exercise. A young Decepticon radio operator woke him from his trance.

"Uh, sir," The operator murmured nervously, "Should I return them now? Well, sir?

"…Right….Yes," Onslaught muttered, then snapped back into reality. "Yes, you do that," he said, with no emotion whatsoever.

The operator flicked a few switches on his dashboard, and slammed his finger down on one big, red button. The button marked "Return".

As Brawl stepped back into the Decepticon barricade, he was greeted with the face of his field commander, Bombshock and several other Decepticons.

"Brawl," Bombshock said, "I like your use of tactics, but I think your use of explosives is a bit too slaggin' much!"

Brawl managed a chuckle. "Sir, I figured I'd try something new today."

Bombshock looked at Brawl once more, seriously. "Brawl, you say that every time you blow something up. And every time you do blow something up, it becomes a great-almighty mess. Keep up the good work."

"Thank you, sir."

The fallen Decepticons around the field, slowly stood-up, as they had only been shot with energon stun guns. The seeker next to Bombshock lifted himself up, and patted his wings, searching for any kind of damage. Once finished checking, he walked off, sulking.

"Aw great," he grumbled, "This is going to affect my overall training score big-time. So much for making it onto the leader board."

Barricade walked past the seeker, and gave him a friendly nudge.

"Hey Ramjet, you'd better work on those reflexes. Next time, try to move your head out of the way before the bullet impact. You'll stay alive," joked Barricade.

"Yeah, well, go barrel-roll somewhere else," snapped Ramjet.

Their argument was interrupted by a voice over the loudspeaker.

"Nice job, femmes, very nice work," said the amplified voice of Onslaught, "Try next time not to blow the whole place up! That's right; I'm talking to you, Brawl!"

Brawl shrugged and muttered a quiet, "Oh, well."

"Oh, and Bombshock," continued Onslaught, "Control your soldiers! They're all over the slaggin' place. And keep one eye on that attack dog of yers. You know who I'm talking 'bout. Anyways, nice job 'cons! Beaming you up right now! Onslaught over and out."

And why were these soldiers training so hard these days? Well, simple. Megatron had announced only a few days ago that they'd soon be launching a full-scale assault on the Autobot council, to scare those little senators away. Decepticons had been training full-on for the past few days, waiting for the moment when Megatron would announce the day they would be attacking.

That date, was currently unknown.

"And then ol' Ramjet here gets hit in the face by a mere stun round!" said Barricade, in between laughs.

He was currently talking in the Decepticon Pool Room, amongst a large crowd of 'cons; most were listening intently, and sipping Energon Wine from steel cups. Others in the room were either playing Cybertronian Billiards, or poker. In the posse listening to Barricade, Ramjet looked up, his optics filling with venom.

"I told you before," he grunted, "I was too busy…..protecting the boss from sniper fire."

"That's…pathetic," Barricade replied, a twinge of pity in his voice. "And to add onto your misery list, that ain't the truth. The truth is that you were having a little femme's tea party with the boss."

Over at the Billiards table, Bombshock whip-snapped his head up.

"Hey, you," he said, pointing at Barricade, "You, shut that slaggin' trap of yers. It ain't respective. Besides, I'm still your commanding officer." He ranted on, slurring his words, and giving the immediate impression that he, an impressive, high-ranking Decepticon Field Commander was in fact, drunk.

Barricade, seeing this, used the opportunity to get back at his superior. "Some commander you are," he smirked, "What kind of highly-decorated soldier goes drunk around his own unit?"

That, ultimately, made Bombshock go bananas

Bombshock angrily picked up his billiards stick, and brandishing it like a club, attempted to clobber Barricade with it, to shut that unbelievably annoying speech servo of his—

'WHAM'

He smiled in victory, only for that smirk to fade as he realised that the blow had been blocked. He looked at Barricade, and Barricade had the butt of his Energon Battle Pistol up, protecting his head from the sharp point of the billiard stick. After grabbing the metal rod from Bombshock, and throwing it to the ground, Barricade flipped the gun around, so that the barrel now faced directly at Bombshock's chest.

"Don't assume that I wouldn't shoot my own commanding officer in the face," he said. "I would."

"Go ahead," Bombshock said, raising his hands up, "Shoot me."

"Don't try me," replied Barricade, his finger closing on the trigger.

"Oh, I would, 'cause you ain't got the bolts, scouting mech."

From behind the crowd, a voice spoke.

"Barricade, quit slaggin around. Drop the pistol, and pass it to me."

Barricade took his aim off Bombshock, and looked in the crowd, searching for the mech who had said it.

"Says who?" he sneered.

"Says me," said Onslaught, stepping into view.

The whole room fell silent. Barricade looked up at the high-ranking Decepticon Strategist. Tall, dark, and a rugged face that contained eons and eons of experience, Onslaught was the perfect soldier. His accuracy and power was top-class, his intelligence formidable. Well-defended, and well-armed, Onslaught was every Autobot's nightmare.

The Strategist gazed at Barricade, his cool eyes not registering any emotion.

"Barricade, rebellious little Barricade. What do you think you're doing? Aiming a loaded weapon at your field commander?"

He calmly took the pistol off the slack-jawed Barricade, and without a word, put it in his backpack. His gaze shifted to Bombshock, also in shock.

"Bombshock? You trying to hit a soldier? Thought you were smarter than that."

Bombshock dropped the pole to the ground and fell to the ground in front of Onslaught feet, begging for mercy.

"Oh please," he cried, "Please don't discharge me. I wanna have a good life, a long one, not a short one. I don't wanna die early, come on!"

Onslaught looked at the pathetic, weeping figure of Bombshock, and instantly cracked up, laughing. The other Decepticons looked on, in confusion. The laughter slowly died down, and Onslaught began to talk.

"Ah-ha," he said, still grinning humorously, "That's rich."

He continued on.

"Anyways, I haven't come here to kill you all, if that's what you were thinking," he said, "I've come here to bring an important message."

Bombshock stood up, his face full of relief, and asked the Deception strategist.

"What message?"

"Details concerning the attack on the Autobot Senate. He's running through the battle plans as we speak," Onslaught checked his built-in watch and continued, "We can still make it if we hurry."

Bombshock and the other Decepticons looked confused.

"Running through the plans now?" Bombshock queried, "That early?"

Onslaught nodded, and then replied.

"Gosh, you guys are slow," he said, "Didn't you guys get the update? We're attacking tonight."

 

[dajman1996]

Onslaught escorted the bots down the hallway, and towards the briefing room.

"Alright guys," he said, looking around, "We're almost there. Try not to look too shabby. This is a formal meeting."

The 'cons following Onslaught instantly started fumbling, trying to polish their rugged combat armour. One such mech pulled a can of Energon out of his backpack, and squirted a couple drops in his hand, then massaged the liquid around his body, his armour becoming shiny and glossy instantly.

A couple of megacycles later, Onslaught finally led them to the room, and opened the door to the now clean, smart looking Decepticon troops. He stepped aside, allowing the soldiers to enter before entering himself. Then he closed the door behind him, and they found themselves inside the reception room.

Bombshock offered to go to the counter, and ask for permission to enter, but Onslaught insisted, saying that he could do it.

He walked up to the receptionist. And he blanched as he saw the bot behind the counter, typing feverishly at a console.

"Breakdown?" he asked, "What are you doing outside?"

The receptionist jumped about 2 feet in the air, before pressing a button on his keyboard which activated the Three Ion Displacer Turrets that were mounted in the walls of the room. The turrets reacted instantly, automatically homing on to the various energon-signatures around the room. Onslaught turned around, saw that the Decepticon soldiers he had been escorting had pulled out their weapons, and were aiming them at the cannons. Bombshock had his EMP shotgun steadily aimed at the forehead of the receptionist, his face a mixture of confusion and rage. Onslaught looked back at Bombshock and signalled for him to order his men to lower their weapons.

Bombshock turned back to his men, and quickly whispered a few words to his men; they in return, re-holstered their weapons. He then used his radio to contact Onslaught, so the receptionist couldn't hear them.

"Onslaught, you sure we should do this?" he asked, "I mean, this receptionist looks a bit touchy, could be a spy."

"Bombshock, you gotta relax," Onslaught radioed back, "I know this guy personally, served with him before. He's just nervous, that's all."

"You the man, boss," replied Bombshock, "I'm hoping you're right."

Onslaught terminated the radio link with Bombshock, and then walked over to the cowering receptionist. He knocked on the table once, twice, and then a third time.

"Hey Breakdown," he whispered, "Better watch out for those turrets behind ya. They might sting a bit."

Breakdown whipped his head up and quickly looked behind him, searching for the "turrets" that could sting. Finally realising that Onslaught was joking, he turned back around, and looked at Onslaught again.

"Primus Onslaught, you scared me," he said.

Onslaught assessed the purple Decepticon scout in front of him. He had changed since Onslaught had last served with him. By the looks of it, Breakdown had received numerous upgrades, new paint jobs, new chassis, and upgraded armour, but he still had the same paranoid personality (similar to that of Red Alert's).

Although a fast and resourceful soldier, Breakdown was scared that every living thing on this planet was out to get him, even if it was on the same side as him. Because of this, he preferred to work by himself, rather than in squads.

Onslaught leaned over the table, and pressed the button that had activated the turrets earlier. They promptly retracted, and the rest of the Decepticon soldiers in the room breathed a sigh of relief. Onslaught then looked at Breakdown, and asked him to press the button that opened the door. As Breakdown tried to find that particular button which was one among thousands on his switchboard, Onslaught asked him a few questions.

"So Breakdown," he said, "How've you been?"

Breakdown replied slowly, cautiously. "Fine sir, really fine. Sorry about what happened earlier, I just thought you might've been the-"he cut himself off.

Onslaught looked at the speeder, confused. "The Whosit?"

"The big boss. MEGATRON," he replied nervously.

Onslaught just peered at Breakdown. "You are paranoid, you know that," he said.

"Paranoid? Paranoid? Of course, I'm not paranoid, I'm cool, calm, and everybody likes me."

He finally found the big, button that opened the door to the briefing room, and pushed it. As the doors opened he laughed nervously.

"Paranoid," he mumbled, "What stupid, two-rate mech would call me that?"

As Onslaught signalled for the soldiers to walk into the room, he turned back to Breakdown.

"You know, that stupid, two-rate mech is called Onslaught, and I'd prefer if you didn't call me that, I'd prefer you call me by my own name."

Onslaught raised a huge, heavy metal Cybertronian Battle Hammer.

"Unless you'd want a dented face," he suggested.

Breakdown's servos instantly went into overdrive.

"Actually-"he started, but Onslaught edged the hammer head closer to his cranium.

"Save it for the 'field, Breakdown.

Onslaught then left the figure of Barricade, sitting right there, and shoved his hammer back into his backpack before joining Bombshock, Barricade, Ramjet, and the others in the briefing room where he would meet his ultimately superior commander.

Megatron.

Soz for being short but please review

 

[dajman1996]

Finally Chapter 5 is up!


Ironhide, the grouchy, old, battle-hardened, and very red weapons specialist, strolled through the training simulation room, and sat down at his post. As he was one of the most oldest Autobots that had ever donned the insignia, it was his duty, unfortunately for him, to mentor some of the young, aspiring Autobot rookies that would come in and train, and one day, become a fully-fledged Autobot Soldier.

Ironhide looked up at the time display on the massive leader-board that showed all the rankings for the Autobot rookies. He was late. The business with Wheeljack earlier had made him late for his utterly boring job.

Which wasn't a bad thing for Ironhide. Possibly bad for Sentinel Prime, but nevertheless, wasn't that bad. The clock ticked all so ever slowly over, and Ironhide waited, and whilst he waited, he turned on a monitor that displayed the different quadrants of the training ground. It was in the last few minutes of the exercise and Ironhide wanted to see how the rookies would handle the final stages, when the lasers would begin the pile up.

As Ironhide watched the monitor intently, he could only shake his head in disbelief. This was awful.

The hapless Autobot rookies were pummelled, and most were immobilised immediately; apart from a few that were miraculously holding their ground. He noticed those survivors instantly.

The remaining Autobots were behind a corner, away from the laser turrets, but still pinned down. One of the Autobots was telling his rag-tag posse what to do, and the whole team nodded in agreement. This was when the plan sprung into action.

A seeker promptly transformed and jetted through the laser beams, weaving in and out of the shots, whilst maintaining top-speed. This 'bot was an ace flier, and was painted in shiny red and plain ol' white. With a trademark pointy head, this mech could only be recognized as Powerglide.

Powerglide continued down the battle field, brilliantly performing barrel-rolls and perfectly timed boosts, whilst still edging closer and closer to the turrets.

He finally got within range of the beam-firing machines, and unleashed a shocking amount of missiles from his underbelly, which lanced out and detonated at different places around the turrets. One of the turrets was hit square in the barrel, and it imploded, sending sparks and smoke everywhere.

It was when the smoke emerged from the broken turret, that the real brilliance of the plan was set in motion. 2 cars, one, painted in dark blue with the Autobot insignia, and the other, smaller, but faster and painted in dark red. The two cars accelerated at full-speed, firing multiple armour piercing rounds from their window-mounted guns which destroyed the remaining turrets.

Beachcomber and Cliffjumper, thought Ironhide.

Seeing the battle was over, the Autobots started celebrating, giving each other pats on the back and high-fives. They, without a doubt, were wrong.

As some sort of final, dying gesture from the training simulation, the wall that contained the now-smoking turrets split in two, and revealed an enormous, missile launching cannon. It was the notorious "TUBER" that all the Autobot rookies feared. All the Autobots on the field looked 'round in horror, having so unfortunately, assumed that the battle was finished.

All, but one.

The only Autobot that was aware of the impending doom was a brawn, bright-red, Cybertronian Hover Tank. The tank boosted in, jumped using its bottom thrusters, and transformed all-so spectacularly, in mid-air.

But it didn't stop there.

The Autobot landed, his fist punching the ground as he did so. He stood upright, and started walking towards the cannon, guns blazing as he did so. This soldier was brandishing two Neuron Assault Rifles, and was rapidly unloading all the clips as he advanced forward. This halted the firing of the TUBER and gave the tank enough time to drop both his guns, and throw two flak grenades into the barrel of the TUBER. Then he signalled to the other 'bots, which responded immediately, and ran like scrapmetals. The last mech rounded the corner just as the fuse on the grenade gave out, and exploded.

The TUBER was no more.

Ironhide sitting in front of the monitor, seeing this scene, smiled, and as he did so, he began to stand up, and meet the rookies in the Prep rooms.

"Warpath," he muttered, "You always were a wild one."

….

….

….

….

Wheeljack sat up painfully, cautiously flexing his limbs. Everything seemed fine, apart from his aching noggin and his dented headlights. He looked around his laboratory; everything was broken. His plans, his shelf, even his experimental weapons that he had so carefully designed and tested. He looked up, and faced the bot that had so quickly and expertly patched him up, and offered his thanks.

"Ratchet, it's no wonder you're Sentinel's man to go when someone gets their servos blown off. How'd you do it?"

Ratchet, the Autobot's chief medical officer, looked back at Wheeljack, and smiled; a gesture that was rare in the doctor's face. He then stood up from his crouching position, and packed all his tools away in his backpack, before helping Wheeljack himself up.

"Well, Wheeljack, I can't exactly reveal my trade-secrets."

"Aww, Come on, I won't tell anybody."

The Cybertronian Scientist, with red and white plastered all over his body, and the insignia printed boldly on his chest pulled out something from his backpack. It was shaped like a gun, but Wheeljack instantly knew, that, in fact, it was the complete opposite.

"An Energon Healing Ray? Ratchet, how'd you get this? These things cost a slaggin' fortune on the market."

"Well," Ratchet replied, "Once you finish your final medical course, and come out on top, of course, you receive a few…privileges."

Ratchet turned away, and began to walk out the door, and as he did so, he dropped a mine shaped object on the floor of the lab. Wheeljack walked over to it, and as he was about to pick it up, it detonated.

But it wasn't a searing sensation that hit him, it was a soothing one. In fact, Wheeljack was hit by a Energon Healing Grenade, which vitalised the holder and everything around him in a 5-metre radius. Wheeljack watched in delight as his room began to return to its original colour, as his broken inventions, the ones on the floor started to lose their dents.

Indeed, Ratchet had done some serious tweaking, and made the original even better.

As the Aura faded away, Wheeljack started moving his furniture back to the way it was before. Everything was fine now, but there was still one thought on his mind.

What had happened to his lab? Was it hit by the enemy? No, that couldn't be right. If it actually was a Decepticon, the sensors would've picked them up by now, whether cloaked or not.

It would be a question that Wheeljack would ponder about for the rest of his shift.

….

….

….

….

Sideswipe and Cosmos banged on the door of the entrance to the training room. Since the alternate route to Sentinel's office (through the Main Weapons Control Room) was currently blocked and under repair, they had to take the long route, through the different Sectors, past the training room, and up the elevator, to the Officer's lobby.

But right now, they were stuck outside the Training Room, still carrying the precious data-drive that contained its life saving information on it.

Sideswipe banged on the door twice, and shouted, "Hey, Someone open the door!"

Nothing.

Cosmos sighed and checked his time schedule that he had pulled out of his cargo pack. His optics ran down the list until he found the bot that was guarding the training room.

"Hey 'Swiper," he asked, "Isn't Inferno supposed to be on duty today?"

"Inferno got relocated to the Decagon. Soldier transfer. I'm actually surprised they haven't changed the time-slots yet," replied Sideswipe, still banging.

He began to reach for his sheathed blades, but Cosmos stopped him.

"You want us to get busted for damaging Autobot property? That would make a big, fat cross on my file."

"It was a good idea," muttered Sideswipe. "Why not try it?"

"I dunno. Do you want to be suspended from duty?"

"Good point."

Cosmos pulled out a lock-picking device, and quickly inserted it into the lock. The door slid open. Bright lights flared from within. Sideswipe looked at him, confused.

"I thought you sai-"

"Don't argue," cut in Cosmos, "This situation calls for desperate measures, and currently, anything is better than nothing at all. Notice how I didn't break anything."

"Well right now, we're breaking and entering," said Sideswipe.

"Mute it," came the reply.

Cosmos rushed in the door, and transformed into his saucer mode, hovering low down the corridor.

Sideswipe just watched him go, before mocking Cosmos' earlier comment.

"Do you wanna be suspended? I think not. I think I'll just pick the lock and break into Autobot HQ."

He transformed into his Cybertronian Sports Car mode, and zoomed off, after Cosmos.

….

….

….

The images of Sideswipe and Cosmos moving down the corridor were being recorded by a certain individual watching numerous security cameras. He looked intently at the two bots, and turned to his assistant, who was standing right next to him.

"Magnus, when those bots take the elevator, I want you to meet them at this floor, got it? Do whatever it takes to bring those two soldiers to my office, understand?"

"Yes, my liege."

The bot named Magnus began to walk out the door. As he did so, the mysterious individual turned around and said one last thing to the bulky Elite Guard.

"Magnus, one last thing."

"Yes, sir?"

"Tell them Sentinel Prime requests their acquaintance."

 

[Lugion]

It's a little lacking in the detail department, but other than that, you got most of the characterizations spot-on, at least from what I read.