It was a normal day for me, Nightrod, and my fellow droogs (gang that is) who had followed me everywhere. There was the umnyys (smarties that is), Ratchet and I, the meeds (mediums that is as well), Clank and Scavange, then there was Jacktooth. He wa'nt dumb, but he wa'nt bright in the style o' fighting clobber like.
Now this here is our tale of an adventure we wa'nt losing for a long time.
'Ey Rod?' asks Jack in a slabyy (feeble I believe is a better word) tone of golos. 'What is it sparkman?' My golos had been booming since I was the bigger of the droogs. He says, 'See them two dovvel zhenshchins (pretty femmes they were) over there sparkman?' And I replied in the liking, 'Wonder if they got some crezz for the taking?'
Clank, standing next to my ukho (hearing devices), bleemed out, 'Oy! Why waste a good veschie? We be getting by a lot fine!' Clank's servo proceeded to slap the back of Ratch who now looked a little zelenyy (He had been getting sickish). 'I say we treat 'em. As a treat fer usssins (forgive my poor example of a droog, he clobbers the gradies a horrorshow hard though). By now, ol' Ratch was shaking his nazad off. He wa'nt a tuffin, but got a horrorshow lot good wence you got him on the pole.
And then he goes out saying, 'Nightrod, we shouldn't be stealing from the femmes. Let alone others.' I gave ol' Ratch a good bit'ya cross the right cheek and he shut up good after that. My sparkmans and I stalked all prancer like to the veschies and gave our 'Helloes' and jumped them right in the middle of gorod.
Those veschies just kept on fighting and tired themselves out and my droogs decided on Clankies suggestion. 'Cept that Ratch who din't seem too hot on the thought of treating to the vesches.
'Rod ims an old muzhskoy (mech), whats dah point in slammen him in the podbordok (chin)?' said Clank.
Ratchet was shaking, what language was this? Nothing he had ever heard on Cybertron.
He had heard about the strange talking mechs in local news but always shoved it aside as a scare. Now that he was face to face with the culprits, he wished he was right.
A nightly walk had turned into his meeting them, and now he was on the verge of distraught tears.
'Please, just take my credits, I don't want any harm caused.' A few bluish coins were dropped in front of the shaking mech's pedes. The one stated earlier as Scavenge's blue clawed servo reached to pick them up from the ground, but Nightrod backhanded him on his right face-plate.
'We have no need for crezz medzy, but we are looking for a clobber.' Nightrod made a motion with his fists, punching one open servo with a closed. 'I amn't playing with you medzy,'
A fisted servo rose into the air, it was black and hard to see in the night. Ratchet squinted at the figure and backed up as far as he could into a wall.
All four of the bots began to strike and beat him as he screamed for help to the passersby. Little did he know that everybot in town was afraid of the culprits. His frame fell lax to the ground as haggard vents shook him.
'What a weak'n he be,' said Scavange. 'Let's finish his skorry (sorry) kadr (frame) off!' As Scavange neared the body, he was again backhanded by Nightrod. 'No. I've a better idea. We could use another droog.'