Four million years ago, the Decepticons took up arms to build a better Cybertron. Now the war has ended. But sometimes taking up arms is easier than putting them back down…

Transformers: Evil Forces of the Decepticons

By Dan Brodribb

The mission was going well-far better than Onslaught had hoped for, given the circumstances-and then the shuttle exploded.

"Report!" The Combaticon leader demanded. "What happened?"

"The entire back half of the ship is gone, " Blast Off said. "We've lost Razorclaw and the others."

"Also, we're going down hard," Wildrider added. "Anyone knows any good crashing songs, this is the time."

Motormaster rose from his seat and pointed at Onslaught. "This is all your fault!"

"Hey, Blast Off," Wildrider said. "How many Autobot Wreckers does it take to screw in a lightbulb?"

A moment later the front part of the ship hit the atmosphere and the time for talking was over.

CAST

Front Section

ONSLAUGHT (Combaticon Leader) Has a plan

MOTORMASTER (Stunticon Leader) Tyranny through tyranny

BLAST OFF (Combaticon) The classy Decepticon

WILDRIDER (Stunticon) Likes to break the tension.

Aft Section

RAZORCLAW (Predacon Leader) Deadly. Competent. Cunning. Everything a leader needs but ambition.

BRAWL (Combaticon) Yeserday's warrior fighting today's war.

BREAKDOWN (Stunticon) Thinks we should run before its too late.

DEAD END (Stunticon) Knows it's already too late.

DRAG STRIP (Stunticon) Knew Mirage, worked with Mirage, and you sir, are not Mirage

DIVEBOMB (Predacon) Too cool for this.

HEADSTRONG (Predacon) needs his eyes examined

RAMPAGE (Predacon) Anxious to prove himself. Anxious in general.

TANTRUM (Predacon) Does his job.

VORTEX (Combaticon) Staunch defender of enhanced interrogation techniques

BEACHCOMBER (Autobot) The Autobot abides

MIRAGE (Autobot) Likes guns, money, and conspiracy theories. Not in that order.

PART 1: 12 Angry Robots

The back half of the shuttle hit the planet's surface, ricocheted upwards and came down again, skidding across the terrain as it tumbled over and over. When it stopped moving, Razorclaw sat for a moment among the twisted wreckage and then unbuckled his safety restraints.

Brawl had already pulled himself loose. He was standing near the aft end of the shuttle throwing things and screaming. Rampage was rapidly transforming back and forth between tiger and robot modes. Mirage was crouched over Beachcomber, who looked shell-shocked, but functional. Drag Strip stood over the two Autobot observers wearing his characteristic smirk.

Divebomb dropped from the sky, transforming smoothly in midair to land in front of the Predacon leader.

"I don't remember this part of Onslaught's master plan," he said.

Razorclaw nodded. "Take a look around, please. I'd love to know a little more about where we are."

"On it," Divebomb said. He transformed and was gone again, his winged form swallowed by dust and smoke.

"Come on, Dead End," Breakdown said to his Stunticon comrade, who was lying on the ground on his back. "You have to get up."

"No, thanks. I'm staying stay right here."

"We need you," Breakdown said. "Our ship is down. We don't know what's out there. We're in real trouble, here."

"Exactly," Dead End said. "We might as well accept it. We're doomed. Our situation is hopeless. I can't think of a single thing that would make it worth it to go on."

"Snap out of it," Breakdown hissed, looking around. "I didn't see any of the 'bots that were on the bridge. For all we know, Motormaster could be dead…"

"Motormaster could be dead?" Dead End sat up and began fastidiously dusting himself off. "Maybe there is some hope left, after all."

"Razorclaw?" Headstrong's voice came from near the back of the wreckage, close to the Autobot observers.

"Tantrum's down."

"All you had to do is fly the shuttle."

Onslaught and Blast Off stood on the planet's surface scanning the ground, the horizon, the sky…anywhere but the spot where Motormaster stood kicking Wildrider repeatedly in the body.

There were few things more socially awkward than being a bystander to Decepticon-on-Decepticon discipline.

"Fly. The. Shuttle." Motormaster punctuated each word with another kick to his fallen subordinate. "How hard is that to do?"

"Back to work," Onslaught told Blast Off and then turned back to the Stunticon leader. "Motormaster, we have a mission to attend to,"

Onslaught had been aiming for a tone of respectful, but unmistakeable authority. He missed.

Motormaster rounded on him. "Is that a challenge, planner? Are you finally looking to be a Decepticon? I've been waiting for this moment."

" This isn't the-"

"This is the time." Motormaster thundered.

He was standing directly in front of Onslaught now, fists raised. "I was told you were in charge, but you haven't shown me you're in charge. So show me."

Onslaught was suddenly aware of Blast Off, who had put down the piece of equipment he had been carrying and folded his arms to watch the exchange. From his position on the ground, Wildrider raised his head.

"No," Onslaught said.

"No?" Motormaster boomed. "No? You back down."

"That's right. I back down." Onslaught spread his arms to the side. "For all I know, we are the only four left. There is no point in wasting resources fighting each other. If command is what you want then it's yours."

Motormaster smiled.

Blast Off looked at his leader with palpable disgust. But Onslaught wasn't finished.

"I await your orders," he said simply.

Motormaster's smile vanished and he looked suddenly uncertain.

"Our shuttle is destroyed. We've lost three-fourths of our forces. We have no way of tracking our objective or finding Quietus' monastery." Onslaught paused to let that sink in. "So. Commander. Command us. What do we do?"

For a moment the only sounds were the howl of the wind and the rattle of dust particles striking the Decepticons' metal hides. Then Motormaster roared in frustration and slammed his fists down on the remains of the console Blast Off had been carrying.

"Careful, "Onslaught said. His voice might be unpleasant, but in this moment, he was unable to keep the triumph out of it. "We're going to need that."

"He was protecting us," Beachcomber said. "He shoved me under the bench and then grabbed Mirage. Shielded him with his body. And when the back engines went…"

"Looks like some of it went right through him," Vortex said. "Ugly."

"He wasn't much to look at to start with," Drag Strip said. "No offense, Headstrong."

"He was told to keep you out of harm's way, "Headstrong said. "He did his duty."

"He was tough," said Beachcomber. "And had nuts. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."

"Well, make sure you put that in your little report to Prowl when you get back to Cybertron." Headstrong's voice was bitter. "That a Decepticon nearly died for you. And you call us the bad guys."

Divebomb appeared out of the storm. "Good news. There's a settlement nearby. Looks like a small village of some kind."

"Life signs?" Razorclaw asked.

"Didn't get close enough to see."

"I hope there are," Vortex said. "I have questions."

"We aren't here to torture people," Beachcomber said.

"We're here to get what we want," Vortex said. "One way is to convince them to tell us where that is."

"Or just take it," Brawl growled.

"No," Beachcomber said. "This isn't how this mission is going to work."

Brawl stepped forward. "Says who?"

"You can't do things this way."

Drag Strip said, "You're an observer, Autobot. Maybe you should talk less and observe more…like the fact you're a little outnumbered here. This isn't your mission."

Rampage and Divebomb appeared out of nowhere. Not quite stepping between the Autobot and the Decepticons, but unmistakeably ready to occupy that space.

Seemingly unbothered by the tension Razorclaw said, "My suggestion is we investigate this settlement and gather more information. I'd also like to propose postponing any potentially divisive philosophical or tactical debate until such time as we know what we're dealing with. If that's all right with everyone." His words and tone invited discussion. His gaze and body language did not. "Does anyone have more to add?"

Somebody did.

"I'm not going anywhere," Headstrong said. "I'm staying with Tantrum."

"We finish the mission," Rampage said. "That's the Predacon way."

"What do you know about being a Predacon, newspark?" Headstrong snapped. "You've barely been a thousand years with us."

"Headstrong-" Razorclaw began, already knowing it was hopeless.

Divebomb stepped forward and said quietly. "We aren't going to change his mind. And it might be for the best. His eyesight makes him a liability in this kind of climate, anyways."

Razorclaw nodded and stepped away.

Headstrong looked gratefully at his fellow Predacon.

Divebomb shrugged. "Don't say I never did nothin' for ya."

"Form up," Razorclaw said. "Autobots in the middle, Vortex and Divebomb up top. Brawl, watch our backs. Rampage, if you would be so kind as to take the lead…"

And then they were gone.

Headstrong bent over Tantrum and began cleaning the dust out of his fallen comrade's exposed circuitry. He was so intent on his work, that he didn't notice the figure coming out of the storm until it was nearly upon him.

Nearly was all the time he needed.

"It's me, It's me!" squawked Beachcomber.

Headstrong released the Autobot's throat and lowered his weapon. "What do you want? And why aren't you with the others?"

"I get around a little better in this environment than most Cybertronians," Beachcomber said. "I'll be back before they even know I'm gone."

Headstrong waited.

"Anyway, about your friend," Beachcomber said. "I just wanted to say, I know that what happened to him happened because of us and I'm sorry. I mean, I know we've all been at war for a long time, but…well, he seemed like a good dude."

Headstrong squinted at the smaller bot. "You know, Tantrum was a heck of a teammate. Worked hard. Tough. Saved my life more times than I can count. He had a bit of a temper though. Anger management problems, I guess you'd call it. Me, I'm not normally so easily frakked off. But all that said, if I were you right now, Autobot, I'd go somewhere I can't see you for a while."

Beachcomber opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and disappeared off into the sands to join the others.

Headstrong returned his attention to Tantrum. He finished clearing the dust build-up and covered the wound with plastic sheeting, securing it in place with adhesive. Tantrum's spark and transformation cog had escaped damage and-as far as Headstrong could tell-his brain module was intact and secure. So long as he could keep the other Predacon's insides from being compromised by dirt and grit, there was a good chance Tantrum would survive.

There was a saying about Decepticons: They never die, and they never learn. Pejorative or not, for his teammate's sake, Headstrong hoped the first half of that aphorism proved true one more time.

He was just finishing up when he became aware of movement off to the side.

Headstrong had terrible vision at the best of times and the blowing silicon dust made recognizing shapes even more difficult. He didn't consider himself stupid though. There was only one person it could be.

"Autobot," Headstrong began. "I told you…"

Silence rushed in.