(begin transmission) "Since you are here, I am assuming you are either interested in this story (which is good), or are bored. Remember, this is my first story, even my first attempt at fictitious writing since 4th grade. But, I hope you like this, and also, review. If I introduce a character that I created, you will know. But, I am roughing this story. No, I don't own transformers, just am a diehard fan, expecially of wildrider. This is wrote basically like wildrider's thoughts, but if there are any different in chapters, I will alert you. To the story now we go! –thewildrider.

Hhh, another boring patrol. Man, talk about dullsville. The middle of fragging nowhere, and not even accomplament from a fellow stunticon. Frag, why am I even out here? I could been a highway, racing dragstrip. But noooooo, thanks to the master fraghead himself, Galvatron, I'm stuck in this primus-forsaken desert with no energon, no friends, and I'm watching a FRAGGING SATELLITE DISH! Master plan to kill the bots my aft.

Sorry, forgot to introduce myself. I am wildrider. I'm your average 27 year old robot. In a war, blasting the autoscum, and being bossed around by superiors who have their heads in their afts. Man, why couldn't I have been in a factory, building cars for my mediocre life? I'll tell you why. A little over 27 years ago, after a defeat, Megatron( see master fraghead), realized that the 'bots owned the road. So, he had Rumble, a casseticon, one of Soundwave's minions, to steal earthen vehicles. First, he stole my best friend, Dragstrip, from a race track (explaining his competitive edge.), then he stole Dead End, from a group of bank robbers (why use a Porsche as a getaway car?!), then he stole the mother load, Motormaster, from a truck driver being chased by cops, not knowing me, wildrider, a Ferrari, and breakdown, a Lamborghini, were the reason the truck was being chased, by us being in his trailer. Well, we were rebuilt to transform, taken to vector sigma (with a little trouble from alpha trion), and sparked. Well, the bots got cocky, and built the arialbots, giving them some air-based warriors (and us some rivals). Well, fast forward through the craziness of my 27 years of life, and here I am. Guarding a FRAGGING SATELLITE DISH, by myself, alone. Livin' the fraggin con dream.

"I hate my….. what's tha?" I said, as the bright lights coming from the sky hit me full force, rendering me unconscious.

*whistles while polishing one of my dad's war metals.* Oh, you guys are done already? Sorry it isn't that long, but don't worry, in time the story will get better, else I'll eat a hat and whistle yankee doodle. Well, since you're here, review. It's sexy. Thewildrider out!" (end transmission)