Hells Angels
By Shadeless

"Blubb" ... speech
-Blubb- ... radio transmission
Blubb ... thoughts

"I'm on the Hiiiighway to Hell…" The song blared loudly into the night. Gary, bouncer and biker himself, had a close eye on the rides the guests had parked outside the bar. There was nothing else to see, really. The gin mill was located in the middle of nowhere, more accurately, a desert. Still, it was frequently visited by many who enjoyed a good ride on a street broad and straight, that seemed to touch the sky on the horizon.
Gary frowned, shaking himself out of his daydreams. Had that bike been there before?

It wasn't something one of their guests would ride, gleaming in a silvery white. Apart from color, the almost feminine sleekness made it an impossible vehicle for any guy with a reputation to uphold. He shrugged it off. He was paid to make sure that nothing mysteriously disappeared, not to ponder style.

That was the moment the ride flickered on it's headlight.

-

The distress call reached them in the middle of the night. Even Red Alert would have prefered to recharge right now. His slow drifting into this state was interrupted, however.

-Please, somebody, anybody! Can anyone hear me?!-

The transmission was laced heavily with static. The security officer was completely awake in an instant, paranoia in full swing. It took him extra seconds to get it under control.

-Here Autobot City, what is your situation?-

-We're under attack! I swear that motor cycle has gone crazy!- The Autobot paused as he took in the information. Motor cycle? Hastily he checked all Autobots with said alt-modes locations. To his relief all of them were where they should be.

-State your whereabouts and I'll send someone out. It is only one?-

-Yeah, but one's enough, man! It trashed our guests rides! Now it circles the damn bar and we can't get away! I'll give you coords, descriptions won't do out here.-

Red Alert had a moment to wonder befor he pinned down the location. A desert. Oh joy.
Stretching his joints he moved to wake up Rodimus.

The young Prime groaned faintly, for the what seemed the thousandst time in the last hour. At first he had thought Red Alert was on another paranoia induced conspiracy trip, before he had realised there was indeed an attack. One would have expected that even Decepticons would have had the good sense to stay in their berth at this time of the night…
As it was he had grudgingly left his own, as he had already been awake, and assembled his company to catch the motor-bike gone wild.
Hadn't it been for the many, many recharge-less nights since he had become leader of the Autobots, he would have enjoyed getting out of his office for something more trivial than a life and death situation.

At least he hoped it wasn't as bad.

The parking lot in front of the battered bar was a mess.

Any robotic life-form had to cringe at such a massacre… Most bikes had been slaughtered. Rodimus supressed a shudder. His companions were less reserved in their commentation.

"Man, that's mean, buddy." Jazz visor analysed their surroundings.

"I'm not sure wether I should hope that guy is still here or not. Even if it would mean we came out here for nothing." And lost a good nights recharge 'cause of some 'Cons idea of fun. Springer couldn't help but think.

"What the –" The saboteur didn't get any further. A roaring engine thundered out of nowhere and rammed him of his feet. Instinct had the other two duck for cover. Although it seemed pretty pointless, there was nothing bis enough to provide shelter to a Cybertronian of their size.

"Jazz, you ok?" The third sat up groggily.

"'M fine…" He shook his CPU into action, glaring at the bike that had skidded to a halt not to far away. It revved it's engine tauntingly. "So ya wanna play, huh?"

"No. Not really." The cool voice took them by surprise. Slowly the motor cycle started to unfold, transforming into a robot almost Jazz size. Rodimus caught himself wondering HOW the PIT that worked, as he always did when he watched mass shifting.

The bot was as silvery white and sleek as his alt-mode. A face-plate hid his expression. Except for the blood red optics. Three guns where trained on him immediately. Cocking his head slightly, he made no move to fight, nor attempt a fast getaway. "State your designation and purpose." Rodimus nearly flinched at how easily his predecessors routines took over. He didn't have time to beat himself up over it, though.

"Lissom." Springer barely muted a snicker at that. It earned him a kick of his friend. "I am here to catch your attention." Rodimus froze. Then immediately activated his comm. –Red Alert, you're most likely under attack any second, prepare –

"Not like that."

"What?"

"There won't be an attack."

Blue optics were narrowed, weapons still on the ready. "And we should believe you, why, exactly?" Somehow he had the distinct impression that the 'Con was laughing at him internally.

"Because we're here to provide back up. For you."

Rodimus blinked. "Ok, you lost me."

Silver intakes huffed a sigh. "We want to join. Leave the Decepticons."

The Prime slowly lowered his gun. It's too late at night for something like this… Then again, might as well be too early. "I hope you are aware that, if you are telling the truth, this won't be easy on you. You'll probably spend the next few weeks in the brig, while trying to convince Red Alert that you are not a spy. You haven't even convinced me yet." As an afterthought, he became aware of something. "What do you mean by 'we'?"

As the remaining, non-scraped motor bikes transformed, he couldn't help but pray that they indeed wouldn't try to kill them. Two on one was outnumbered enough when confronted with an enemy you were at a disatvantage concerning speed and knowledge of the others skills.