Summary: Have you ever noticed that almost all the members of G1 gestalt teams have something wrong with them? Whether it's a phobia, recognizable disorder, or an over exaggerated personality trait. They each have a unique processor fluke that makes them stand out in your mind. With each chapter of this story you will see an example of them exhibiting their issues for all of us to enjoy. Long live the gestalts!
Author's note: Okay so this is my new story. It is about all the strange behaviors that are exhibited by gestalt robots in G1 Transformers. I'm sorry for all the grammar mistakes in this chapter but that has never been my forte.
First up is the king of the road! Motormaster!
Intermittent Explosive Disorder: Intermittent explosive disorder is characterized by repeated episodes of aggressive, violent behavior in which you react grossly out of proportion to the situation. Road rage, domestic abuse, and angry outbursts or temper tantrums that involve throwing or breaking objects may be signs of intermittent explosive disorder
Deffinition provided by Mayo Clinic.
Motormaster stomped down the long purple hallway that led to the Stunticon's small wing of the Nemesis.
His pedes made a loud crashing noise on the metal floor. He was walking with a little more force then was really necessary. It was very necessary for him though. He liked the floor to tremble just like his frame was. He liked it to shake with as much rage as he was feeling.
The reason for his anger was of course his wayward teammates. They had been sent out on a mission to pick up a component for Megatron's latest weapon the day before. Normally he would have went with them to ensure that everything went as planned but Megatron had requested he go on a solo mission to pick up a cache of Energon he had stored for emergencies. That energon would be used to power the new weapon. That is it would if his teammates were competent enough to collect the most important part.
Motormaster growled and his engine revved as he thought of how they must have failed miserably. He started to think of all the ways they might have screwed up this time. That only served to increase his anger.
He wasn't yet aware of how they had fragged up but he was sure it must have been idiotic like usual. He had just arrived back from his mission and it had gone without a single hitch.
He was nearing the entrance to their quarters now and he could feel his team through there gestalt bond. They were all relaxed and in bubbly moods.(Well as much of a bubbly mood as Dead End could be in.) So much so that they didn't even notice his rage through their link.
He could feel his processor pounding. The pain added to the tingling feeling that always spread through his circuits when he was in this kind of mood.
They were in there enjoying themselves even though the four of them had failed Megatron just hours before. They should be ashamed. They should be bowing before their great leader begging for forgiveness and mercy.
Well they would be begging soon enough.
Motormaster pulled out his sword and sliced through the door. It was a thin cut but it was enough to warn the occupants of the room of what was coming for them. He heard them all run to there separate rooms. He didn't really understand why. They all knew he would come for them.
He slammed his large shoulder against the door and it flew across the room and hit the wall across from him. It had been unlocked but he just needed to smash something. To release some of the massive amount of energy that was racing through his fuel lines.
It wasn't as satisfying as his teammates' heads would be but it still helped a little.
He looked around the now empty room. The living area was surrounded by five doors that led to each of the stunticon's individual berthrooms. He registered a sweet smell in his olfactory sensors and sniffed. He looked down and saw four high grade cubes on the table in the middle of the room's two couches.
His optics must have malfunctioned at that point because everything he saw turned red.
How dare they drink high grade to celebrate a failure. He had never heard of something so infuriating. They obviously had no pride in the work they did or the cause they served.
He was going to make them pay for this insult to the Decepticon cause. And he knew just how to make each of them suffer.
He walked over to the first door and knocked softly. It slid open slowly and he could see Breakdown peeking out at him from behind it.
The blue and white Lamborghini's optics brightened at seeing Motormaster. When he had heard the timid knock he had expected it to be Dead End coming to tell him the coast was clear. The last thing he had expected was the hulking mass of purple and grey evil leering down at him.
He gasped loudly and backed away from his leader's purple staring optics. He tried to slam the door but Motormaster grabbed it and bent the metal in a way that made Breakdown sure it would never close again without significant repairs.
Motormaster watched his timid gestalt mate back away from him slowly until his back pressed against the far wall. He never took his optics off the smaller mechs as he continued to take small steps toward him.
Breakdown started to shake in terror. Motormaster stared at him for a full 10 minutes. As soon as his own frame started to shake with the energy that wasn't finding an outlet he ceased his little game.
He shot his arms out and grabbed Breakdown by the front of his chassis. The smaller mech didn't even have time to squeak in terror before he was roughly smashed against the wall.
Motormaster continued to stare into Breakdowns optics. Never breaking the contact even as the other mech's body was being pounded hard into the wall. He didn't have to look up to know that a dent was forming.
On the ninth smash Breakdown offlined and his optics slowly dimmed to black.
Motormaster growled at seeing this. What a pathetic piece of slag. So weak that he offlined after a few hits. The wall had taken more damage then he had.
He dragged Breakdown with him as he exited the room. The large purple mech dropped his unconscious team mate in front of the door that was painted blue and white after his colors. Looking back into the room he could see that the far wall now had the same color scheme. Breakdown's back was a lovely shade of gray.
That gave him an idea for his next victim.
He stomped over to the next door in the line and smashed his fist against it until it crashed open. It felt so good to watch it crumple from the force.
Dead End was standing in the middle of the room waiting for him. It angered Motormaster even more that he wasn't shaking in terror.
The larger mech didn't waste anytime staring here. He grabbed Dead End by the throat and threw him onto the berth that lined the far side of the wall. He unsubspaced a knife and held it out for Dead End to see.
Even with the appearance of the weapon Dead End still appeared to be bored with the whole affair. He had been punished many times before and this wasn't anything new for him.
Or so he thought, Motormaster had a special punishment in mind today.
Motormaster grabbed one of Dead End's arms tightly. He could feel the metal denting in his tight grip. He held the knife to the arm and slowly began to scrap off the paint in irregular patterns. It made a loud squealing sound that Motormaster savored.
When Dead End realized what was happening he began to struggle. Motormaster reached out and pinned him to the berth by his neck. The smaller mech continued to attempt to get away throughout the whole experience. He tried to talk a few times but every time Motormaster suspected that his subordinate was going to speak he tightened his grip on the neck he was still holding onto.
By the time Dead End's entire frame was covered in silver scratches his vocalizer was almost crushed.
Motormaster grabbed the smaller mechs helm and smashed it hard against the nearby wall. Dead End offlined instantly.
The large purple mech placed Dead End on the floor outside the ruined door just as he had done with Breakdown.
He moved on to the next mech that needed to be punished.
He grabbed the side of Wildrider's door and pushed it aside roughly. It was already broken from when the stupid fragger had smashed into it while racing a couple days before.
He entered and found the room to be empty at the first glance. He knew exactly where his teammate was though because of the gestalt bond. He took this opportunity to look around the room.
The walls were painted with childish caricatures of all the things Wildrider enjoyed. There were strange items littered all over the room. Most of it Motormaster didn't even recognize. It was all stupid human junk that Wildrider for some reason enjoyed collecting.
Most of it wasn't worth his time and he started to get annoyed when he didn't find what he was looking for. But then he glanced up and an evil smile appeared on his face plates.
In each corner of the room was a large speaker that attached to Wildrider's impressive music playing device. Those speakers were Wildrider's prized possessions. They were one of the things that kept him sane late in the night cycle when he was alone and had no one to pull him out of his episodes of psychosis.
Motormaster stomped over to the berth, not caring were he stepped or what he stepped on along the way. He knelt down slightly and reached under the bed. His hand grasped a spike and he yanked as hard as he could.
Wildrider yowled in pain as he was roughly pulled from his hiding spot. He didn't have time to do anything other then that though. As soon as his frame was clear of the berth Motormaster grasped his other head spike and slammed his face into the nearest speaker.
He felt the mesh cave in and the metallic and plastic parts dig into his face painfully.
Motormaster repeated this motion five times with each speaker until they were all destroyed along with one of Wildrider's optics and a large portion of his faceplate.
He dragged the unconscious mech out of the room and threw him on the ground outside the doorway. Wildrider's head spikes were mangled beyond recognition.
Motormaster chuckled darkly as he headed to his final subordinate's room.
Before he could destroy the yellow door in front of him though it burst open and there was a gun being pointed at his face. It was shaking slightly but its owner was trying hard to reign in his terror.
Before Drag Strip could even think of firing Motormaster had ripped the gun out of his hands and grabbed the smaller mech around the neck. He lifted him up off of his pedes and slammed him against the side of the door frame.
"Well Drag Strip what do you have to say for yourself. You are always saying how you would make a better leader. You had your chance to prove it with this mission but instead you have made a fool of yourself and my team by allowing Megatron's weapon part to be lost." Motormaster growled this into Drag Strips face. He loved the way Drag Strip's terrified optics went almost white with anger.
"What are talking… Umppphhh" Drag Strip had started to say something but Motormaster cut him off by shoving the barrel of his gun into the little yellow mech's mouth.
"You love this gun so much Drag Strip. Why don't you suck it for me? Show me how much you enjoy having this weapon."
While he said this he moved the gun in and out of Drag Strip's mouth provocatively. The smaller mech's optics were glowing with pure hatred and embarrassment.
When Motormaster got tired of watching Drag Strip suck on the gun he pulled it out of his subordinate's mouth and pistol whipped him across the helm with it.
Drag Strip fell to the ground clutching his helm and groaning in pain. Motormaster moved closer to him and then proceeded to kick him in the helm repeatedly.
He let out all his energy on Drag Strip's face. He didn't stop kicking the yellow mech until all of his anger and rage had started to fade. He finally stopped and sighed. He was content with the lesson he had taught his subordinates. They would think twice before they failed Megatron again.
A chuckle sounded from the center of the room. Motormaster looked up startled. He had not expected any of his teammates to be conscious or laughing for a very long time after that beating.
It was not one of his gestalt mates though. Sitting on the Stunticon's largest couch holding one of the discarded cubes of high grade was Skywarp. He took a large sip of the cube and smiled at Motormaster.
Motormaster took a step toward him and growled threatening. Some of his anger was returning, though not at the force it had previously been at.
"What do you think you are doing here Skywarp?" The semi growled. "This is Stunticon territory and you are not welcome here." Skywarp only laughed at that and raised his cube into the air as if to give a toast.
"I just came down here to congratulate your team on finally completing a successful mission." He said without a trace of sarcasm in his voice. "I mean they did get the part that Megatron was after and they injured like five Autobots all on their own. I thought they deserved a little appreciation but I can see that you already have that covered." Skywarp looked down at his cube and swirled the liquid around a little before taking another sip.
"Ahhh good stuff. Well I must be off now. Thanks for the show and remember to extend my congrats to your team when they wake up." Skywarp cocked his head to the side in mock thought for a moment. "That is if they wake up of course"
He then teleported out of the room. Motormaster thought he could still hear the seeker's mad laughter lingering in the air around the couch.
The large purple mech walked over to the couch and sat down. He looked up at his dented and offline team. He wondered if he should be feeling guilt for punishing them unfairly.
He snorted and picked up one of the discarded high grade cubes. He took a sip and rolled the liquid around his glossa before swallowing. He sighed contently and relaxed into the couch. Skywarp was right. This was some pretty good high grade.
Thank you for reading. Please review and tell me what you liked and what I can improve on!
-Rel