School Days:

Gatekeeper had been an instructor with the Decepticon Empire for nearly a hundred thousand vorn. He'd had a hand in training nearly every ground-based soldier currently in the Empire's forces and more than a few of the aerial fighters. There wasn't, he'd bragged, a soldier he couldn't train.

Which was why they'd given him the Combaticons, he was sure of it. Some rear-echelon slag-head wanted to see whether he'd crack under the strain.

Gatekeeper hadn't thought much of them on first sight. They looked like any other rag-tag pack of Neuts straight out of the Territories. Oh sure, they had some skills but they were still amateurs.

Take that one who styled himself their leader, that Onslaught. There was a mech who fancied himself a soldier and a scholar -- likely the next Cannonade. Onslaught studied on his own until it was obvious he thought he knew more than Gatekeeper did. And worst of all, the big teal slagger probably did.

But, Gatekeeper knew too well, all the downloads in the world weren't enough when you didn't have the experience to back it up -- and a few vorns scavenging and scrapping against civilians and Empties in the Territories didn't stack up against real combat experience. If the boy thought a few data-tracks were all it took to make him a master strategist, he'd learn how wrong he was. And probably take his troops straight to the Pit with him. Which, if those troops were his brothers

Oh, Onslaught had potential, Gatekeeper had seen enough troops in his time to know who had it and who didn't. Onslaught and his teammates wouldn't be alive if he didn't have some tactical abilities. But the boy had gotten too enamored with fancy plans and schemes; he made things more complicated than they truly needed to be.

Which was why Gatekeeper was amazed that Onslaught had, for once, done only what he was supposed to do.

Gatekeeper had given the recruits a simple training exercise: build a fighting position and camouflage its position. Nothing complicated, just a nice easy exercise straight out of the Decepticon Empire's Basic Infantry Training data-track. The whole thing designed to get the troops used to working with the pre-fabricated structures in a safe environment and teach them the importance of blending in.

Gatekeeper stared at the Combaticons' fighting position. Technically, it had been assembled correctly -- though it would have taken a real effort for someone to put it together wrong considering all pieces were numbered, bar-coded and the position was essentially an armored cube.

But it was currently standing out on the Rust Plains like a bright copper cube on a countertop.

"What the slag have you done?" Gatekeeper asked. "Onslaught! Get out here and explain this mess to me! Now!"

A hatch opened and Onslaught looked out. "Is there a problem, Instructor?" Onslaught asked, his voice respectful and smug.

"A problem? Is there a problem? Well no, son, not if you're gonna be the one drawing fire for the rest of the damned Army!" Gatekeeper bellowed. "Awful damned generous of you, I gotta say but I ain't trainin' you idiots to be martyrs! I'm trainin' you to make martyrs of the other guy!"

"Well, I will admit that it is a bit shinier than it should be." Onslaught looked back at the fortification as if studying it for the first time.

"You could see it from the second moon!" Gatekeeper fingered his stun stick, hand itching at the idea of giving Onslaught a few licks. "Tell me what the slag you fools are doing and make it good!"

"Of course, Instructor." Onslaught bobbed his head respectfully. "We assembled the shelter per the instructions, for the most part. If you would like to look inside, you'll see that I took the liberty of reinforcing the interior of the structure."

"Reinforced it?" Gatekeeper stormed over, sticking his head into the main hatch. Inside, the structure had been buttressed with "Are you completely fragmented!? This is a three-mech structure! You can fit five in if you press it but with all this extra slag in here you're lucky you fit yourself in there!" Gatekeeper's was clenching his stun stick, depressing the activation button and feeling it crackle to life. "Where'd you get the extra armor? No, don't answer boy, I know you had that little bandit of yours finagle it for you. You boys are failing this one."

"Fail?" Onslaught looked confused. "Why would we fail the exercise?"

"Wh-why? Why? Am I gonna have to put you in the remedial class for this! I thought you were smarter than this, Onslaught. You were supposed to camouflage your position, does this fortification look camouflaged to you?"

To Gatekeeper's amazement, Onslaught considered the question. "No, I suppose not," Onslaught said. "But, you do have to admit that it does attract your attention away from the surrounding area, don't you?"

Gatekeeper blinked his optics. "'Course it does! It attracts too much attention! That's the whole problem!"

"I don't know Instructor, it looks to me like it kept you looking where we wanted you to look," Onslaught said. "Right, Vortex?"

Gatekeeper felt a gun barrel press against his main transformation seam. "Yep!" Vortex giggled. "Want me to bloop him, Ons? Please, can I bloop him?"

"You bloop him, we fail the test, dummy." A patch of ground spoke in Swindle's voice. "I ain't takin' this class again. No slaggin' way. I gotta deal that's dependent on me passing."

"Swindle, I disagree with your reasoning, but I concur with the sentiment," Onslaught said. "No Vortex, you may not 'bloop' him. In fact, stand down."

There was a sigh as Vortex lowered his gun barrel and stepped around Gatekeeper, who stared at the smaller mech. Instead of his usual matte grey, Vortex had been painted shades of red and brown, matching the rust of the plains.

Vortex's optics brightened. "Like it?" he said, turning in a slow circle. "You walked past me on the way up here. I saw you chewin' out Doorkicker's team a couple klicks from here."

"What are you playing at, Onslaught?" Gatekeeper took a step closer to Onslaught, stunstick still crackling and popping in his grip. "You think this is a game? You think I got you out here for playtime?"

"No Instructor!" Onslaught sounded offended, even hurt. "I'm demonstrating that my team can disguise their positions in a field exercise."

"You were supposed to camouflage this position! You were supposed to secure this area!" Gatekeeper bellowed. "Not play around with paint jobs and hides! Your fancy tricks may look good in a datatrack but you can't play games in the field! Games get you killed. Dunno what you thought you were going to prove with this Onslaught, but you failed this exercise. And apparently I need to beat some sense into all of you. Onslaught, you're in charge so you get first licks. Get over here."

Seeing Onslaught hesitate, "Boy, I gave you an order. Get over here now."

"Yes, Instructor." Gatekeeper could tell Onslaught's confidence had slipped, though he was clearly trying to cover it with gruff obedience as he stepped up to stand in front of Gatekeeper.

"Hands out, palms up and start the count, Onslaught." Gatekeeper raised the stun stick, bringing it down in a swift sharp arc across the thinner, more sensitive armor of Onslaught's palms.

"One," Onslaught said, voice crackling from interference.

On the second and third blows, Gatekeeper held the stick in place, letting it burn into the sensitive armor of Onslaught's face. Behind him, he could hear Swindle and Vortex starting forward. "Keep those boys back, Onslaught. They get their turns next. Keep 'em back or we start the count again."

"Stay back," Onslaught said.

"C'mon, 'Keep! Don't do this!" Swindle sounded panicky, much to Gatekeeper's satisfaction. "C'mon, this is a load! We can make a deal, can't we? What d'you want? Anything you want, we can get it for you!"

"You can shut up," Gatekeeper said. "You made me lose count. Now I gotta start over."

"NO!" Swindle and Vortex yelled in chorus. There was a crack and a sizzle and Gatekeeper's stun stick dropped to the ground, followed shortly there after by Gatekeeper himself. In the last moments before he went off-line, he saw a flicker of movement as a pair of cloaked figures stepped toward Onslaught.

X X X

"Is he dead?" Vortex asked, darting in to poke at Gatekeeper with a foot.

"No." Blast Off pulled off his cloak and threw it at Swindle, who staggered back as he caught it. "I'm not that stupid. He's stunned. He might have a few short-term memories scrambled, but he'll wake up alive and well in a few breem."

"You shouldn't have done that," Onslaught said as Brawl reached out to steady him. "Bad enough we failed..."

"Onslaught, you're not listening," Blast Off said. "He'll be out for a few breem; if we're quick we should have enough time to correct the exercise and by the time he wakes up we might -- emphasis on might -- be able to convince him that we did everything according to his pedantic little rules and pass this ridiculous exercise in futility."

"Yeah!" Swindle perked up. "C'mon, Ons, we can do this! Nobody really gets hurt -- 'cept Gatekeeper but so what? I get my deal with Invoice, you an' Blast Off can move on to Officers Training. What's the harm?"

"And," Blast Off said, looking solidly at Onslaught. "You can rest secure in the knowledge that your 'playing with paint and hides' managed to bring down the smug bastard."

Onslaught looked at his brothers, then nodded slightly. "Vortex, Swindle, Brawl, reassemble the hide. Blast Off, I need you to patch up my hands. Stun stick injuries are rather hard to disguise. Alright mechs, get to work!"